


What's Love Among Gods?

by tonyscaps



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Anxiety, Everyone Needs A Hug, Greek Mythology - Freeform, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Manipulative Nick Fury, Nick Fury Knows All, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Someone Is A Father, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Loves His Bots, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyscaps/pseuds/tonyscaps
Summary: Tony, the Greek god of forge, fire, and metalworking, has been cast out of Olympus. He lives in his workshop, Pyra, and is only kept company by his bots and the occasional visit from Rhodey, who usually comes bearing messages from the all-powerful Nick Fury. Tony isn't happy to be left alone in Pyra, but there's no way for him to go up against all of the gods of Olympus. For now, he endures.Meanwhile, a new god has arrived on Olympus. Steven Rogers, the god of beauty, love and desire, has been living among the humans in Athens for thousands of years. With it getting more and more difficult to live on Earth, he decides to live with the other gods on Olympus. Being new in their home, they all flock to him, fighting for his attention and affections. Never one for the spotlight, he leaves the mountain in search of solitude, and stumbles across Pyra. Tony knows that Nick Fury wouldn't approve of his budding relationship with Steve, but really, when has Tony ever cared what Nick Fury thought?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a new series that I'm working on, and if you've made it this far, then you know it's a Greek Mythology AU. I'm going to go ahead and list all of the Avengers and their Greek God counterparts so you guys don't have to play the guessing game for the rest of this fic. This is the first part in what I hope to be a series, so stay tuned if you like what you see!
> 
> Tony is Hephaestus, the Greek god of forge, fire and metalworking.  
> Steve is Aphrodite, the Greek god of love, beauty and desire.  
> Nick Fury is Zeus, the big angry guy in the sky. All powerful and very dangerous when pissed off.  
> Maria Hill is his Hera, the queen of the gods. There are no romantic attachments here, but she is vital to making sure that Fury gets what he wants.  
> Thor is Poseidon, the god of the sea. I know, I know, no thunder? But trust me, there's a reason for this. Stay tuned.  
> Hulk is the Ares, the god of war. Always looking for a fight and insatiable in battle.  
> Rhodey is Hermes, given the gift of flight by Tony, and the messenger of the gods.  
> Clint Barton is Apollo, the god of archery. Described in mythology as the perfect sharpshooter, handsome, and energetic.  
> Natasha Romanoff is Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. She's known for being independent with sharp focus and perfect aim. In mythology, Artemis valued privacy and vowed to protect women that could not protect themselves.
> 
> This will take place in ancient Greece because I wanted to play with writing Athens and the ancient people, and the clothing, food of the Greek gods etc. So here we go! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!

Tony was working on his newest project when Rhodey stepped through the entrance of his workshop unannounced. Tony glanced up from his work briefly and tried to scoff at him. But his traitorous lips tugged upwards on one side. It was nice to have company—especially when said company was his closest friend. Rhodey walked towards Tony’s workbench, his linen tunic draped over one shoulder and flowing loosely to his knees. His sandaled feet barely touched the ground as he approached; being the gods’ messenger, he’d taken to flying as his main source of transportation. His sandals were one of Tony’s first inventions, and the tiny metal wings attached to the back of the shoes helped Rhodey get to and from Mount Olympus with ease.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Olympus, and honestly, he couldn’t decide exactly how he felt about that. He was young when Fury had banished him from the gods’ extravagant home, never giving Tony an explicit reason for his exile. But Tony wasn’t stupid; he had his suspicions. He didn’t miss being on Olympus—more like he missed the idea of the family, the home, that he should have. Instead of mourning that loss, he made his home in the bottom of a volcano, the only workshop that could suit the god of fire and forge.

His volcano, dubbed Pyra by the other Olympians, was isolated, but not completely lonely. Tony had decided long ago that if the gods on Olympus wouldn’t have him, he would make his own family. So, he did. His automatons kept him company. Rhodey, the messenger of the gods, who was only allowed to visit Pyra on business, whether it be bearing messages or tasks from Nick Fury, the big man in charge at the top of the Mountain. Rhodey always hesitated to leave Tony alone in the bottom of the volcano, but Fury was not to be tested. He was a man filled with as much anger as he was power, and with Maria Hill viciously loyal to him, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Rhodey grinned easily at Tony as he crouched down in front of his friend. “I guess it’s been a minute.”

“It’s been six weeks, but who’s counting?” Tony asked, sounding sharper than he meant to. Standing up, he wiped his hands on his chiton, the harsh black of the grease staining the fabric. He knew it wasn’t Rhodey’s fault that he was alone. It was Fury’s, and Rhodey was only allowed to visit when the Big Man needed something from Tony.

Rhodey winced, but his good nature wasn’t so easily deterred. He was used to Tony’s snarky attitude, and he knew that he wasn’t really mad at him. Tony was just frustrated and tired of living alone, no matter how many times he insisted otherwise. “I only have a message for you this time. Fury doesn’t need any maintenance.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow up at him, waiting for whatever message Rhodey was supposed to pass along to him this time. Rhodey stepped towards Tony, bringing his arms out, palms open towards the high ceilings of the cavern, as if he were shrugging. He met Tony’s gaze before speaking. “As always, he gave me no context. I have no idea why he wanted me to tell you this.”

“So, what does the Big Guy have to say that’s so important?” Tony asked rolling his eyes, his words dripping with apathy. He really didn’t care what Fury had to say to him, and he could guess that this fact had something to do with his expulsion from Olympus.

Although Tony was dangerously keen on testing Nick Fury’s authority, Tony knew that if he were to fight him, he would have to go up against him alone. _Maybe_ Rhodey would take his side, but even then, they would be going up against everyone else on Olympus. That was the power of seven major gods, and no doubt Fury would rope in the minor gods to fight his battles alongside him. The only army Tony would have would be an army that he built for himself. All things considered, he _could_ do it. But in the end, would it be worth it? The only thing he would gain would be a new location. Every one of the Olympians would hate him more than they already did, and he would still be alone; he would just be at the top of the Mountain, instead of at the bottom of Pyra. And he quite liked Pyra.

Rhodey glared at his friend, not amused by Tony’s indifference. “He said ‘We’re welcoming a new god to Olympus. You’re not invited.’” Rhodey hated seeing Tony living on the outskirt of society, separate from the only people who could understand him. He detested coming to Pyra with hateful messages from Fury, but Fury knew all. If Rhodey so much as though about delivering anything other than Fury’s exact words, nothing but suffering would await him on the Mountain.

Tony knew this, and he may not care what Fury had to say, but he never disobeyed for the sake of his only friend. He could never forgive himself if something happened to Rhodey because of his reckless aversion to authority. “Did he say when?” Tony asked, and Rhodey knew then that Tony would respect Fury’s demand. Even if only to protect him.

Tony’s workshop kept him busy anyway. Between the updates on his automatons and his new project—flight—he never really had time to leave his volcano. The only time he ventured outside was when any of the surrounding mortals wandered a little too close to the base of the mountain. Sometimes the strength of a god inside a volcano brought unintended eruptions. He didn’t want to get too ensnared in his work and overlook an unsuspecting mortal—he quite liked the fragile beings. The other gods thought he kept the mortals away because of his recluse status, but he never bothered to correct them. People that stayed too close to Tony tended to get hurt.

“No clue,” Rhodey shrugged again. “But I can tell you that the new god is there already. Well, he’s not a new god, but it’s his first time on Olympus. Steven, god of beauty, love, and desire. He’s an older, major god, but he’s been living in his temple in Athens among the people. Been there for thousands of years, but it was getting harder for him to live in the city, what with him being the most beautiful man on the planet and all.” Rhodey shook his head, scoffing at the thought; he had seen Steve himself, he wasn’t _that_ beautiful. “Anyway, now he’s decided to live with us. I guess.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, considering this for a moment. “The most beautiful man on the planet, huh?” he mused, mostly to himself, but Rhodey glanced up at him disapprovingly. He knew he very rarely showed interest in anyone, let alone any of the gods. Most of them steered clear of Tony anyway, by Fury’s orders. But the few mortals that Tony had taken a liking to had shared a common trait; he had a thing for blondes. “What does he look like?” the fire god asked, snapping Rhodey’s attention back to him. Tony had seen the god of love’s temple, but it was hard to know what the man’s distinguishing features were from a ten foot tall marble statue. 

“Nope. Not allowed to tell you anything else. Fury doesn’t want to pique your interest.”

Rhodey started back towards the entrance of the cavern, his shoes keeping him just above the ground. “Hate that I can’t stay buddy, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Tony scowled at him but let him go without any disputing. “Yeah, I hate this. I’ll see you.”

Rhodey flashed a smile at him, but it was tainted with the bitterness of his departure. He kicked his feet up and flew through the volcano, turning his body to fly though the opening at the top.

Tony went back to his work, fiddling with the metal armor in front of him He had created one suit before, and it sat, barely used in the corner of his workshop. He stared longingly at it, knowing that all he needed to do was put it on to fly after Rhodey and out into the world. But it wouldn’t last a second against the wrath of Fury if he disobeyed direct orders, and in the end, it wouldn’t be worth the risk. The old suit worked, but it wasn’t _perfect_. He turned his attention back to the new suit, sighing to himself as he went. His bots whirred as he went back to his workstation, ready to assist him in any way, and he reached down and patted his first creation, Dum-E, lovingly. This new suit would be perfect, impenetrable, fit for a god; and he would use it when the time came. Against Nick Fury.

* * *

Steven jogged through the clouds at the top of Mount Olympus, trying his best to steer clear of the other gods under the guise of exercise. He had already been welcomed warmly by Clint and Natasha, who had shown him to his new house in the sky. He had already decided that everything on Olympus was a little excessive, including his new place. Most people expected the god of beauty to bask in the attention and adoration of the people, and even of the other gods, but he wasn’t inclined to do so. He preferred his privacy. He knew how everyone saw him, and he loathed the idea of people flocking to him just to merely _look_ at him. Steve knew that he had more to offer than just his outward appearance, but it seemed that no one around him was interested.

He couldn’t avoid Fury all day; he knew that the god of gods was planning some sort of welcoming party, and that he would expect Steve to introduce himself before the big event. Steve started a third lap around the mountain, and before he knew it he was once again standing in front of the estate that was now his. He crossed the threshold and stared in wonder at the elegant entryway surrounding him- the walls were a pristine white marble from top to bottom. Even the stairs in front of him were carved from the luxurious stone. The sight of it made Steve long for his humble home in Athens, surrounded by a community that cared for one another. But the battle being fought between the Athenians and the invading Spartans had left his once beautiful city war-torn. He had no choice but to flee to Olympus where the gods were enthralled by any newcomer.

Steve stepped into his new home, his eyes absorbing the details that he had missed upon his earlier arrival: the invaluable art hanging on the walls, the lavish furniture throughout, the oversize windows allowing natural light to pour in from all sides. He moved slowly through the halls, familiarizing himself with the building once again. He would be living here for the rest of his immortal life, after all.

He ascended the stairs to find his bathroom, intent on soaking away the stress of this never-ending day. He began to untie the sash holding his tunic around his waist, and as the linen fell from his shoulder, he heard someone clear their throats behind him.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised, but he caught his clothes before they could hit the ground entirely. Turning to face the offender, he was calm as he met Nick Fury’s gaze. He held his tunic at his hips, careful not to expose anymore of his body to the god of gods.

“Welcome to Olympus, Steven,” Fury said, never batting an eye at the other god’s exposure.

“Please, call me Steve,” the blonde corrected him, taking an involuntary step backwards. He wasn’t _afraid_ of Fury, but there was something disconcerting about the way the man was looking at him—it was more like he was looking through him.

Fury stepped closer to Steve, daring him to move backwards again. Steve stood in place this time, anticipating Fury’s power move before he had even made it. “I hope your new quarters are to your liking,” he began, eyeing the bathtub behind Steve. “The Olympians have been looking forward to your arrival.”

Steve nodded once, still appraising the situation. He may have been new to Olympus, but he’d heard what the mortals said about Fury on Earth: a man whose anger was matched only by his own power. He’d kill for something as insignificant as a disagreement at the dinner table. “Yes, it’s very different from Athens,” Steve answered. “Clint and Natasha showed me to the house earlier, but I haven’t met the other gods yet. So far, everyone has been cordial.” Steve leveled his stare at Fury in silent defiance, as if to say, “go ahead, prove me wrong.”

Fury didn’t miss the challenge in the man’s voice, and he quirked an eyebrow up at him in response. He wasn’t enraged by Steve’s words, but amused, and Steve didn’t like that at all. “I came to tell you that the other Olympians have insisted on a welcoming party for you, tomorrow night. I expect you’ll be there?”

“I guess I will be,” Steve sighed, unable to hide his irritation. He knew what the party would turn into—a competition for his affection. It was one of the disadvantages of being the god of desire, everyone wanted to be friends with the prettiest guy in the room. Fury watched him carefully, still gauging the attitude of the newcomer. Steve could tell that if he wasn’t there already, he’d just made it to the top of the god of gods’ shit list.

Fury turned to leave, already losing interest in the exchange. “You will be there,” he told him, already halfway to the door. He hesitated for a second before leaving altogether, then turned around to face Steve once more. “I did come to set a couple of the ground rules. There is only one rule that I forbid anyone from breaking. Tony Stark is not to set foot on Olympus, and the punishment for breaking that rule is banishment to Tartarus. No exceptions.”

Fury left without another word, leaving Steve to stand alone in his new bathroom. His hands were still clutching his tunic around his waist, and, finally alone, he dropped his clothes to the floor. He turned the faucet and found that the bathtub was charmed, and it was filled to the rim with steaming water before he could turn the nozzle the whole way. He cut the water and slid into the tub, his eyes drifting shut as the hot water caressed his bare skin. His thoughts lingered on Fury’s final instructions: No Tony Stark, no matter what.

Clint and Natasha had warned him about Tony before they’d even reached the gates of Olympus, but most of what he knew about the god had come from the townspeople in Athens. He was rumored to be a recluse, hiding away in his volcanic workshop all hours of the day. He’d heard stories of people getting too close to the mountain and being escorted away by Tony’s automatons, and Steve had always recoiled from the thought of the god alone in the bottom of a volcano for eternity.

He sunk further into his bathwater, completely submerging his head as he tried to get rid of his thoughts of Tony Stark. He had already aggravated Fury on his first day on the Mountain, the last thing he needed was to break the only explicit rule that would be enforced.


	2. Steve vs. The Olympians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is far from comfortable in his new home, and he's already wary of Nick Fury. What happens when he comes face to face with the rest of the Olympians?
> 
> Tony is greeted in Pyra by an unwelcome surprise, and he has to play the hero--something that comes far easier to him than he ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is the first official chapter! I meant to post sooner, but between work and school starting, it's been hard to really nail down a schedule. For now, post days are Wednesdays! Today I'm posting early because my class was canceled, but typically I will post around 3:00 CT. If that ever changes, I'll let everyone know on twitter, which is @tonyscaps, and you can follow me there if you feel like keeping up with my regular shit posting. I don't know what else to put here other than thank you so much for reading. That alone is enough to make my heart swell. And thank you for your comments! They encourage me more than you know. Leave some more, if you'd like! With that, welcome to the dysfunction that is the Olympians. Welcome to Pyra. And welcome back to Olympus.

The next morning on Olympus, Steve was far from well-rested. He’d tossed and turned in a bed that was far too large, surrounded by a house that was far too empty. Usually, Steve would fall asleep to the clatter of the city of Athens around him—sometimes the sound would carry into the early hours of the next day. The noise used to annoy him, but after the deafening silence of his first night on Olympus, Steve longed for it more than he thought possible.  
  
Steve climbed out of his new bed and moved through the house solemnly. He picked up the tunic he had worn yesterday and threw it over one shoulder, cinching it at the waist with a fine gold rope. He hovered in his bedroom for only a moment before deciding to head to the great dining hall of Olympus.  
  
The Olympian’s dining hall was extravagant, with a courtyard of the gods leading to the open area where everyone ate. The courtyard was filled with statues of the gods, busts of each of the Olympians lining the walkway through the greenery. There were fig trees and wildflowers spread throughout, despite the fact that they were living above the clouds, and Steve was momentarily distracted by the beauty of it. He strolled through the plants, eyes lingering on each of the marble figures. He took his time on the pathway, in no hurry to join the gods at the dining table, but he couldn’t deny his need for food. Steve grabbed breakfast, but he dodged the other Olympians, who were all seated around the long dining table in the clouds. He helped himself to the barley bread and figs that were set out for them, and picked at his food, uninterested in what he was eating as he slipped away from the gathering.  
  
Before he could disappear completely, he heard his name being called from behind him. Steve looked over his shoulder and saw Clint rise from the table to catch up to him. He slowed his pace, but Steve didn’t stop walking altogether, and the other god took this as an invitation to join him. He resisted the urge to sigh aloud as Clint jogged over to him, matching his pace once he caught up.  
  
“How’s it going, new guy?” Clint asked, enthusiastically. He reached around and grabbed his bow and an arrow off his back, fiddling with it as he spoke. Steve cocked an eyebrow quizzically at him, already on his guard with a weapon in Clint’s hand. He knew that Clint wasn’t a threat to him yet, but it was better to be wary when a skilled archer was present.  
  
“Okay,” Steve mumbled around a mouth full of food. He looked away from Clint, setting his eyes straight ahead as he walked. He was certain that Clint got the message—that he wanted to be left alone—but he ignored it regardless. “I’ve had better days.”  
  
Clint looked at him, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Better days than your first day on Olympus?” he asked, intrigued. He twisted his arrow between his fingers in one hand, swinging his bow with the other.  
  
Steve simply shrugged in response; he didn’t feel the need to explain himself to Clint. An awkward silence hung in the air as Steve refused to answer Clint’s question, but Clint persisted anyway. He was determined to make friends with the god of love, and this was something that Steve had grown accustomed to.  
  
But he kept walking, and Clint kept pace with him as he went. “Hey man, you wanna go, I don’t know, spar or something? Get to know each other?” Clint asked, the arrow spinning even faster in his hand now.  
  
Steve tensed up at that, but kept his gaze straight ahead. “Not really in the mood,” he answered, his tone clipped.  
  
He had to give it to Clint though, the guy was not backing down. He sped up a little bit, turning to block Steve’s path with his body. Steve stopped short of walking straight into Clint’s chest, and Clint raised his bow. Steve’s body stiffened instinctively, his hand twitching at his side, barely resisting the urge to reach up and snap the bow in half. Clint moved fast enough that Steve almost missed him loading his arrow, but before he knew it, Clint had fired the arrow over Steve’s shoulder. The arrow lodged itself in one of the many busts of the gods that lined the walkway that they had taken. He turned his head a fraction of an inch to look at Clint’s target, and he noticed that this statue was particularly damaged, and he presumed it was common for Clint to practice his archery outside of a shooting range. He could also guess that he was looking at the head of Tony Stark, the only statue that Fury would allow to be marred in such a manner.

Steve returned a cool gaze to Clint, but Clint was grinning from ear to ear. He laughed shortly at Steve’s alarm, his face contorting into a mischievous smirk. “You really don’t want to have some fun at target practice with me?” he asked, his voice more playful. For a split second, Steve couldn’t tell what Clint’s intentions were—if he was being seriously threatened, or if this was just the way that the god interacted with others.  
  
Slowly, Steve backed away from Clint, his eyes calculating as he judged the situation. He decided that he wasn’t in any real danger; Fury would have Clint’s head if he maimed Steve so early in his stay on Olympus. Steve took his chances and turned his back on Clint, walking steadily toward the bust that held the arrow. He was hyper aware of the other Olympians watching him from where they sat at their breakfast table. Without even looking in their direction, he could feel Fury’s eyes on him as he made his way back down the pathway.  
  
He kept his head up as he approached the sculpture, almost as if he was assessing the damage done to it. There weren’t just cracks in the marble, it was as if someone had taken their anger out on the figure. There was an ear missing, and a crater took its place on the side of his head; a marble eyeball appeared to have been smashed in with some sort of blunt instrument. There, where the nose of Tony Stark should have been, was Clint’s arrow. For a fleeting moment, Steve wondered what the god of forge and fire could have done to enrage the Olympians to this degree. With his breakfast still in one hand, he lifted the other and yanked the arrow out of the sculpture, the stone coming to bits with the force of it. Steve stared in surprise as chunks of marble hit the ground surrounding the pedestal that held the bust, and he shuffled his sandaled feet out of the way of the debris.  
  
He heard an amused laugh come from the direction of the breakfast table, and he glanced up cautiously. Steve knew that Fury had been watching him, but he wasn’t sure how he would react to the shattered effigy. Fury stood from the table, his eyes squinted in Steve’s direction, but his mouth was pulled in a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t worry about it,” his voice carried across the dining table and through the courtyard. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”  
  
Steve chuckled weakly, and as he turned to walk back towards, he saw Thor and Natasha rise from their seats out of the corner of his eye. He turned his attention back to Clint, who was staring open mouthed at the pile of marble on the ground. Once he noticed that Steve was looking at him, he beamed at the man.  
  
“Now look what you’ve done,” he laughed. “I’ve got to go find something else to shoot at now. You’re coming with me.”  
  
Before he could deny Clint’s request again, he felt a large hand clasp him on the back. He turned the slightest bit to see Thor at his left side, his ever-present trident in his hand, and Natasha at his flank. “Yes! We should all go together,” he insisted, urging Steve forward with the firm grip on his shoulder.  
  
Before they could make it any further down the courtyard’s pathway, Steve ducked out of Thor’s grip and sidestepped the three gods. “I really don’t feel up for it,” he told them, a feigned apologetic look gracing his features. “Maybe some other time. I just want to go back to my quarters.”  
  
Steve turned to leave the dining hall before any of them could give him a response, and he let out a grateful sigh when he realized that no one was following him. He finished what was left of the barley bread in his hand, and he ate his last couple of figs in a few quick bites. Steve kept walking, but instead of wandering among the clouds of Olympus as he had done the night before, he began to make his way down the side of the mountain. He was headed back towards earth.  
  
Without thinking about where he was going, Steve’s feet seemed to carry him to Athens on impulse. He traveled down the side of Mount Olympus with ease, and trekked through the wooded area surrounding the base of it. In nothing but his light tunic and sandals, he wasn’t dressed for a hike, but it didn’t really matter. Being an immortal deity meant being unaffected by things like weather and walking conditions. He could walk for days without breaking so much as a sweat, and he’d done it before. This was nothing new for him.  
  
Steve made it to in Athens without any difficulties, but what he saw on his journey left a sinking feeling in his chest. His once beloved city had been almost completely destroyed, some buildings still smoking with the damage the Spartans had done. He wandered aimlessly until he came across his own temple, and his chest heaved with loss. The temple had been demolished almost beyond repair, the fire pits that stood on each side of what was left of his statue were the only things left. They were the only things that survived because they were the only things that weren’t made of stone; they had been constructed of bronze to reflect light up onto the statue of the god of love when they were lit. Steve felt tears form in his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. He shook his head to himself and made to leave the city, and it looked like he wasn’t the only one. What few Athenians were left were gathering up their belongings, heading out of the city with wooden carts piled high, pulled by mules.  
  
Steve travelled sullenly to the outskirts of the city, heading in the opposite direction of Mount Olympus. Athens was nestled in between Mount Olympus and the fiery home of Tony Stark, roads running far to the right side of the volcano. Steve had never actually been to Pyra—he’d never needed to. He didn’t need to today, but he didn’t want to go back to his large, lonely house on Olympus, and he didn’t want to stay in the remains of his beloved city any longer.

Tony was working furiously in the bottom of his volcano, intent of finishing the prototype of his new suit. He knew that he would have to bring the weapons online eventually, but first he wanted to perfect the suit’s flight. Any of the other gods would simply charm the ability to fly onto an inanimate object, but not Tony. He had the ability to create something with his _intellect_. He knew that he could build it, that he could create it with his hands alone, so he _did_.  
  
He was pounding away at the warm metal in front of him, his bots at his feet ready to help with anything he may need. He needed the shape of this new suit to be perfect; Tony had made his last one a little bit too bulky, throwing the aerodynamics off. Flight had been possible in Mark II, but too difficult. He couldn’t keep too much weight in the air at one time, and being a god meant Tony had plenty of muscle mass that made him the definition of “too much weight.” Not only had the design been slightly imperfect, but Tony had used the suit to come to the defense of the Athenians upon Sparta’s attack. The opposing city-state’s army had been merciless, and without the other Olympians holding off the attack with them, the Athenian’s defense had given way in the first couple of days. Tony had tried to be of more use to them; he lived among them after all. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that had he not been there fighting, the Olympians would have been more inclined to help the mortals in battle.  
  
Tony was busy shaping the burning new metal, ignoring the heat beneath his fingertips. His thoughts were wrapped up in war with the Spartans, and he nearly threw the suit down in surprise when an alarm sounded throughout Pyra.  
  
Tony jumped into action without hesitation: he knew that sound like he knew the sound of his own voice. Someone had gotten too close to the volcano while he was working, and that meant that someone was in danger of catching some serious volcanic ash in the next couple of minutes. With Mark III out of commission for at least another week, Tony had no choice but to step into Mark II and activate the suit with his aura alone.  
  
Going up through the top of the volcano was out of the question, seeing as the volcano had already started spewing lava and ash with Tony’s earlier work. It was like instead of Tony’s body tiring with the labor of forging new creations, his home tired instead, groaning on protest and spraying ash to dissuade him from creating. Rather than going up, Tony headed through the cavern that was his side entrance, flying at highest speed that his old suit would allow. Once outside, he circled the top of the volcano once before he spotted who had tripped the alarm.  
  
He noticed a larger blonde man, travelling alone in nothing but one piece of fine linen draped over his shoulder and golden sandals strapped around his feet. From the distance, he couldn’t make out any facial features on the man, but his first concern wasn’t recognition—it was his safety. Unlike the other travelers who had been walking around Pyra, this man had none of his belongings, with him, no family members travelling with him. He was completely alone. _At least that will make him easier to carry_ , Tony thought to himself, relieved.  
  
He swooped downward, making to grab the man from behind and carry him through the sky to the entrance that he’d come from. “Hey!” he shouted from behind the mask of his suit, and the man swiveled to look at him. It was at this point that Tony realized that he wasn’t looking at just any man. He was fly full speed toward Steve Rogers, the god of love, beauty, desire—all of that. He felt his eyes widen in surprise as he recognized him, but it was too late for him to abandon his original plan of flying them both to safety.  
  
He knew that in the suit, Steve wouldn’t recognize him, and he used that to what he thought was his advantage. But as he got closer and moved to hook his metal-clad arms under Steve’s and lift them both into the sky, Steve made flight increasingly difficult.  
  
He twisted and turned in Tony’s grip, shouting in surprise. “Who are you? Let me go!” he roared, looking up towards Tony’s masked face as they flew towards Pyra. “Put me down!”  
  
Tony struggled to keep his grip on Steve’s shoulders, and he could already feel his old suit starting to give under the weight of _two_ gods—it could _barely_ fly him alone. Fortunately, they only had a short distance to go, but Steve wasn’t making this easy. Tony sighed, frustrated with the man that he had in his arms. “If you could please—just be still. I will put you down as soon as I can.”  
  
Steve stopped struggling and looked around, paying attention to his surroundings for the first time. Tony saw him stare solemnly ahead at the volcano, no question of where they were headed, and he knew that Steve had guessed who he was. Not that it was hard to guess, but there went his hopes of leaving Pyra unnoticed. Word about this would get back to Fury on Olympus before the day was over.  
  
“Pull your legs up to your chest,” Tony ordered from behind his mask. “We’re going in.”  
  
Steve did what he was told, but his whole body went rigid as they crossed the threshold and flew through the dark cavern into the lower parts of Tony’s workshop. With the suit on its last leg, their landing was far from graceful, and they both rolled across the ground, taking bots and inventions with them as they went. As soon as they hit the ground, Steve tucked to control his direction, rolling as far away from Tony as possible.

“What is that?” he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Tony, who was still recovering from their landing. He was seated against the opposite wall, one leg bent at the knee and the other one sprawled out carelessly. The suit had powered down in their descent, finally giving out, and Tony raised his head to pry the mask off of his face with his hands.  
  
“Would you just—would you just _chill out_ for a second? Let me catch my breath?” Tony said, his head finally free of the metal faceplate.  
  
Steve glowered in disbelief. “What. Is. That?” he ground out through clenched teeth.  
  
“Transportation,” Tony shrugged, unbothered by the tone that Steve had taken with him. “You’re not supposed to be here.”  
  
“What do you know about where I’m supposed to be?” he asked, his voice halfway between incredulous and furious. “Aren’t you Olympus’s favorite hermit?”  
  
Tony flinched at that, and Steve didn’t miss it—he instantly regretted his words. Tony stood and began to take the rest of the suit off. “No one is supposed to be here. Except me. Sometimes Rhodey.” He pulled the rest of the armor off of his body, revealing clothing similar to that of Steve’s chiton. The only difference was that his was covered in burns and grease from his earlier efforts constructing the new suit. He threw the damaged suit back into the corner of his workshop. There went his backup—Mark III would just have to be that much better. He turned to face Steve. “Fury is going to be livid.”  
  
He studied the god in front of him; he’d seen statues and heard stories, but none of that could do the man justice. When they called him the most beautiful man on the planet, they weren’t kidding. Steve had a thin white linen draped over his left shoulder, leaving the right side if his chest exposed, and the skin was pulled taught over the muscles there. His blonde hair was longer than Tony had seen it on the statues in the city, and his eyes were a startling blue, even in the dim light of the cavern. Tony was, for the first time in a long time, stunned speechless.  
  
Steve crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “I don’t give a damn what Fury is. I’ve been on Olympus for a day and a half and he already despises me.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Tony raised an eyebrow, amused. “What did you do to get yourself put on Fury’s shit list?”  
  
Steve shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “I, um—I broke your statue in the courtyard on Olympus. It was an accident, but it was… it was already in pretty bad shape. Clint likes to use it for target practice apparently. He wasn’t happy.”  
  
Tony sucked in a breath, unsurprised that he was the other gods’ object of torment both on and off the Mountain. “Well, thanks for putting my guy out of his misery,” he said smoothly, but Steve looked up at him, not missing the catch in his voice.  
  
“Sorry, I’m… I’m Steve, god of love—”  
  
“And beauty, and desire,” Tony interrupted. “I know who you are. I’m Tony, god of…this” he said, gesturing at the contents of the volcano, his bots and inventions scattered everywhere. He crossed the workshop, righting the bots that had been overturned in the confusion. “Welcome to Pyra.”

 


	3. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets comfortable in the hearth that is Pyra, but his absence on Olympus does not go unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back! I was nervous I wouldn't make my deadline today with my schoolwork, but we're doing it! And chapter 3 is here! 
> 
> I haven't said any of my thank you's, mainly because there's so many people to thank for encouraging me to keep going with this fic. Honestly I have a list going and I was going to do one big thank you at the end, but there are a couple of people that I have to say thank you to like _right now_. Thank you to Victoria for being the first person to let me rant to about this fic, and for reading every chapter for me, you're an angel, a saint. Thank you Tiger for also listening to me rant about this fic, even when I have literally no idea what the fuck I'm talking about. Thank you for letting me bounce ideas off of you, you're the absolute best writing buddy. (To anyone reading these notes, read String Theory cowards. Tiger is amazing.) There are so many more people that I need to thank, but these two are so very important to me. Love you guys. 
> 
> Alright! Enough of the sap.
> 
> Into the fire we go.

With the explosion settling around Pyra, Steve was trapped  inside of the volcano for at least a little while longer. He stood for a moment, merely watching as Tony circled the workshop, cleaning up the things that had broken in the crash landing. Once Tony was done, he sat at his workbench. He glanced up and noticed Steve hovering, taking in the contents of the Tony’s lab.

“I would sit down,” Tony told the blonde, returning his attention to the work in front of him. “It’ll take another hour for the volcano to cool completely. You shouldn’t travel out there just yet.”

Steve snorted indignantly, “I know that, thank you. I could walk out there, though. If I wanted to.”

Despite his protests, Steve moved closer to Tony and sat down on the ground—near enough to see what Tony was working on. Steve tucked one leg underneath him, his other leg kicked out in front of him. He craned his neck to see what Tony had laid out on the table in front of himself, not comprehending the piles of forged metals and loose wiring. Steve spoke again, trying to appear as uninterested as possible. “I feel like I should point out—at the risk of sounding self-obsessed—I am a god, too. The fire doesn’t hurt me—the same way that it doesn’t hurt you.”

“Maybe it won’t hurt you, but it won’t feel good,” Tony countered, and Steve could practically hear the god rolling his eyes. “You do sound self-obsessed, by the way- but isn’t that sort of your brand?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, taking offense. He glared at the other man, wondering how Tony was able to pass judgement on him so quickly.

“No, I didn’t mean… I don’t mean that you are…—I don’t even know you,” Tony explained, cursing himself silently. How is it that he never failed to make an ass of himself? Steve stared at him with such open hurt, Tony could have kicked himself. He tried again, stumbling over his words. “I just meant—you’re the god of beauty. Self-obsessed is like your tagline.”

“I guess so…” Steve trailed off, growing quiet. He wanted nothing more than to forget the subject entirely.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Tony hoping that Steve would something else, but the quiet hung in the air, making it difficult to breath. When he didn’t speak, Tony sighed. “I don’t think you’re self-obsessed,” he said, refusing to look at Steve as he spoke. “I just met you; I don’t even know you yet. But I know what it’s like to have a reputation that I didn’t ask for, and I won’t hold that against you.”

Steve had been staring at the floor with intent, but he looked up at Tony’s words. Tony was fiddling with the metal scattered about at his work table, but there was a hint of apprehension ghosting the god’s features. The genuine feeling in Tony’s voice caught Steve off guard.  They sat that way for a while; Tony focused on his work, Steve focused entirely on Tony.

After a moment, Steve’s curiosity got the better of him. “Is that why you’re here instead of Olympus? Because of your reputation?”

Tony scoffed to himself, still refusing to look up from his work. “Something like that,” he began. “Fury’s made sure that everyone knows exactly how  _ insufferable _ I am.” He threw the titanium he’d been struggling with down on the worktable in front of him, and Steve noticed that he was working on something similar to the suit that he’d worn earlier. 

Rather than asking about that, Steve wanted to know more about Tony himself. “How long have you been in this volcano?”

Tony shrugged, “Since the beginning. Fury threw me out after I made my first bot,” he said. He reached down to pet one of the bots at his feet without thinking, as if it was second nature—as if they were an extension of Tony’s own self. His shoulder sagged with the weight of his loss, the loss of the family that he’d never had. “What about you? Why’d you decide to live on Olympus all of a sudden?”

Steve matched Tony’s somber mood in an instant, remembering the state that Athens was in, the people evacuating the city, and the brutality of the invading army. “The Spartans attacked. They’re fond of the warrior gods—Fury, Clint, Hulk, Natasha. They don’t exactly stand in line to pay respects to the god of love. They invaded Athens and I knew that I couldn’t stay there.”

Tony nodded, diverting his attention from the worktable to Steve. “I remember. I tried to aid in the defense of the city. The, uh…the suit—” he said, jerking his chin in the direction or the armor from earlier. “I wore the suit into battle. It’s a work in progress, but it was the only weapon I had. It just wasn’t enough.”

“You were fighting with the Athenians?” Steve asked, his jaw going slack with surprise. “Fury and the others, they didn’t fight. But you did?”

The god of the forge shifted on his workbench, unable to meet Steve’s gaze. “I did. The others would have come if I hadn’t been there. Fury doesn’t like to be anywhere I am, but I saw the Spartans coming, I was the closest to the battle, I  _ live _ down here,” he muttered, his eyes closing in frustration, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was frustrated with Fury or with himself.

Tony disappeared back into his own thoughts for a moment, the guilt of the Athenians’ defeat weighing on him. If only he’d fought harder. If only he’d made a better suit. If only he’d seen the Spartans earlier. If only Fury didn’t hate him, they could have all gone in to battle side by side. With the other Olympians fighting, they could have defended the city without ever involving the mortal Athenians. So many people had died during the siege— soldiers and civilians alike—and Tony assigned that blame to himself.

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice just loud enough to get Tony’s attention. He lifted his head, an eyebrow raised in question, but the corners of his mouth were still turned down in a grimace. “It’s not your fault that they didn’t help,” Steve told him, his voice still soft. “You can’t carry that burden.”

The ever-present frown lines between Tony’s eyebrows eased only a fraction, and he tossed a half-hearted smile in Steve’s direction. “Yeah, guess you’re right,” he said, a hollow chuckle falling from his lips.

The two gods sat in silence for a while longer, and Tony went back to his work, turning away from Steve reluctantly. It was nice to have another person in the workshop, even if there was no conversation among them. A second heartbeat in the room was enough for Tony to feel content, but he knew Steve would go back to Olympus as soon as the lava stopped flowing. He didn’t delude himself into thinking that they would suddenly be the best of friends. Maybe Steve would sneak down from Olympus to visit Pyra every now and then. The thought crossed his mind, but he knew it wasn’t even a remote possibility. That didn’t stop him from longing for it with a desperation that he wasn’t aware he was capable of.

Tony sneaked a glance at the god of love, who was sat with his back against the legs of another of Tony’s lab tables. He had his head leaned back against the tabletop, his eyes closed and Tony couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. His feet were out in front of him now, crossed loosely at the ankles, and his hands folded in his lap. Tony watched him for moment longer, smiling to himself briefly. He looked…comfortable. No one ever stayed with Tony long enough to get comfortable. Ever since the landing in Pyra, there had been a tight dread that weighed heavy in Tony’s chest; he was worried about Fury’s reaction to him having a guest—no matter what the circumstances were. But as Tony’s eyes landed on Steve, the aching in his chest was alleviated ever so slightly at the sight of the near-stranger so relaxed in his volcano. This man knew next to nothing about Tony, other than what Fury had told him, and Tony was sure that whatever he has been told, it wasn’t flattering. Yet here the god of love was, eyes closed and completely trusting of him. Steve stirred on the ground, and Tony quickly looked away, picking up where he’d left off with the new suit.

Steve opened his eyes and looked around the workshop, though he hadn’t really been asleep. He listened intently to the volcano around him, able to hear the lava still rolling down the sides of the mountain. Unable to stay quiet any longer, he turned to Tony once again. “Why does Fury hate you so much?” he urged, needing to know more about the man in front of him.

Tony immediately recoiled, his face clouding over with distrust. “He’s never said. You know Fury, he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. It was after I started building things—when he sent me into exile. But I’ve been building things—my bots—for as long as I can remember. I wasn’t on Olympus for very long.” One of the bots whirred closer to Tony’s feet, almost like it was nudging him in an effort to comfort him. “Hey, Dum-E… I’m okay, buddy,” he murmured, shuffling his sandaled foot closer to the automaton.

“So, you think…” Steve trailed off, his elbow balanced on his knee and his head resting thoughtfully in his hand. “You think he, what….—feared your bots?”

“Not necessarily,” Tony was quick to correct him. “I mean look at these guys, they aren’t anything to be afraid of. Especially not if you’re the God of gods. I think he’s afraid that I  _ can  _ create, that I have this ability.”

Steve looked at the few bots that were circling the workshop, picking up things with their robotic arms just because they could. They were cute, not  threatening. But as he looked around the workshop, his eyes landed on Tony’s suit from their flight around the volcano. “The suit,” he said, his eyes never leaving the damaged metal.

Tony set his jaw, refusing to give Steve a definitive answer. He knew the suit existed, and that was enough to put him at risk already. He didn’t need to know why Tony had created the suit—what else he was working on. Rather than pushing the subject, Steve accepted Tony’s silence, his chin still resting on his hand. “So how do they work?” he asked, gesturing at the other bots. “Charms, I guess?”

Tony scoffed at him without thinking. “Charms? What do you take me for?”

“A… god? That uses charms? We all do it,” Steve said, confusion coating his words.

“Not me,” Tony smiled to himself—a dazzling, proud grin as he looked back to Dum-E at his feet. “Science. I build them, program them, activate them all with my hands. With my mind.”

It seemed Steve’s earlier thought about the bots being an extension of Tony’s self wasn’t so far-fetched, if he’d understood correctly. Some sort of bond between the AIs and the god gave them life. When Tony was awake, they were awake; when he was asleep, they were asleep. They were connected telepathically, and he could command them that way as well.

Steve stared at Tony in awe, amazed at the sheer brilliance of the man working in front of him. Fury wasn’t afraid of just the bots, he was terrified of Tony. Tony, the god who Fury had isolated from everyone else; who he’d spread dreadful lies about and threatened at every turn—he was the only thing that could threaten Fury’s position as the leader of the gods. Steve kept the thought to himself, but he swelled at the notion of a new Olympian era—one that was led by someone other than Fury.

As the stillness lingered, Tony raised his head and looked around at the high ceilings of the cavern. Steve followed his gaze, curious as to what had gotten his attention. Tony’s shoulders slumped, and the god of love was puzzled for only a moment before he realized the workshop was dead silent. The sound of the explosions outside had stopped completely. It was safe to leave, and Steve would need to go back to Olympus, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“You should probably get back to the Mountain,” Tony said, and he wouldn’t look at Steve. He’d gotten a taste of companionship with someone new in his workshop, and now he was going to go back to being alone. He’d done the same thing time and time again when Rhodey came to visit, but it still left a prickling feeling in his chest every time he watched him leave.

On the other side of the cavern, Steve rose from the floor with ease. He took the few steps from the wall to Tony’s work table and stood directly in front of him, crowding his space. He was demanding Tony’s attention—demanding to be heard. “Thank you, Tony,” he said, and the god looked up, surprised to hear Steve’s voice so close to him. “Thank you for flying out there for me.”

Tony smiled ever so slightly before he pulled his guard back up. “Yeah well,” he began, his genuine smile sliding into a playful smirk. “If I’d have known you were a god, I would’ve left you at the mercy of the volcano.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Steve countered, his voice firm. He’d only just met Tony, but he was certain that he was one of the good ones. He wouldn’t have left anyone at the mercy of a volcano, no matter who they were.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the Olympian, but before he could come up with some sort of witty retort, he heard a shout come from the opening at the top Pyra, echoing loudly into the hollow at the bottom.

“Tony!” came the voice more clearly the second time, and Tony recognized Rhodey’s voice. He was flying through the top, his winged sandals carrying him through the settling volcano.

“Be nice, I’ve got company!” Tony shouted, throwing his head back and beaming towards the ceiling.

Steve watched as the Messenger God landed elegantly on the cavern’s floor. But Rhodey didn’t share Tony’s enthusiasm, and he paced for a moment before turning on his friend.

“I know you’ve got company! All of Olympus knows you’ve got company!” Rhodey said, and his voice was steady despite the panic that was evident on his face. “Fury sent me to fetch him!” He turned on his heel, pointing an accusing finger in Steve’s direction.

Steve didn’t move, but his eyes widened as Rhodey approached him. “You’ve got to go.  _ Now _ . You have no idea what kind of danger you’re putting yourself  _ and _ him in.”

Tony watched the exchange for longer than he meant to, taken aback by the ferocity in Rhodey’s tone. “Hold on a second,” he cut in as Rhodey was grabbing at Steve’s elbow. If Steve wasn’t going to go on his own, it seemed Rhodey was going to force him out of Pyra. “I just pulled him in here out of the explosion; I thought he was an Athenian. Fury knows all, right? Surely, he knows the circumstances—it was a misunderstanding.”

Steve interrupted the exchange before Rhodey could respond, and judging by the way he’d rolled his eyes at Tony, he wasn’t happy with that excuse. “I was just about to head back, just waiting for the ash to settle. I can handle Fury. There was really no need for him to send you after me.”

Rhodey glared at Steve, disbelief coloring his features. “You can’t handle Fury. No one can handle Fury. That’s why Tony’s  _ stuck  _ here.”

This time, Tony was the one to glare at Rhodey. “That’s not fair, I’m working on that. You know I am.”

“Tony, shut  _ up _ ,” Rhodey snapped. He looked meaningfully from Tony to Steve, clearly worried that Steve would relay this information to Fury once he was back on Olympus.

Steve threw his head back, huffing in frustration. “Oh, come on—you can’t be serious. I have no loyalty to that man.”

“Rhodey, I pulled him off of Pyra wearing the suit,” Tony interjected, cutting Steve off before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

Rhodey took a step backwards, his jaw clenched shut, surprised by this news. “You weren’t supposed to take the suit out until it was ready, Tony,” his words tense with reprimand. “Every time you take that suit out of the shop, Fury is watching you.”

“I’m telling you, I thought he was a  _ mortal _ . It was the only way I could have helped, and that’s what I do down here—I help the people.”

“At what cost?” Rhodey ground out through clenched teeth. “If Fury strikes you down in that suit before it’s perfect, you can’t help anyone. Please remember that.”

Steve looked between the two gods. Concern was radiating from Rhodey’s body, and the mood at the bottom of Pyra had gone from suspiciously content to alarm in a heartbeat. If Fury was as angry as Rhodey had said, Steve knew he needed to get back to Olympus as soon as possible. The debate that Rhodey and Tony were gearing up to have wouldn’t accomplish anything—it would just prolong their departure. The only thing that would come of it would be more of Fury’s wrath when they returned. “Come on, Rhodes. We need to go, anyway,” Steve intervened, before Tony could get another word in. He threw Tony a glance that he hoped appeared apologetic. He had to know that Steve didn’t want to leave; he could at least give him that. But Tony had already turned back to his work table, sitting down heavily.

Steve watched as Rhodey’s frame visibly deflated at the sight of his friend, his gaze softening as he spoke. “We do need to go. I’ll be back soon,” he told him. Rhodey crossed the workshop and rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly for reassurance.

The interaction sent a pang through Steve’s chest, and he found himself wondering about the history between Rhodey and Tony. He knew that Tony had been living in Pyra since the beginning of the Olympians, so how did he know Rhodey? Steve noticed Tony’s face relax, fondness gracing his features as he was comforted by his friend. Without warning, Steve’s fingers twitched at his side, aching with the desire to reach out and touch Tony. He was still standing across the workshop, but he’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to close the distance between them, wrap him in his arms--do  _ something  _ to help. But he was sure that his affection wouldn’t be returned, much less well-received.

“I’ll see you,” Tony said, and Steve was brought out of his reverie with a jerk. Tony was looking up at the Messenger god, a hint of a smile playing at his lips, despite the somber mood that had settled over the three of them.

Steve’s heart fluttered as he watched the exchange discreetly; he was glad that there was someone who could comfort Tony despite his exile. But after his and Tony’s introduction today, he found himself longing to come back to Pyra, to aid in whatever Tony was working on. He wanted nothing more than to help him get out from under Fury’s thumb and back on Olympus. Steve didn’t say anything out loud, but he swore to himself that he would be back soon, too, regardless of the danger that it put the two of them in.

Steve and Rhodey exited the volcano together, but they split up once they were on the outside. Rhodey turned to Steve and nodded at him once before parting ways. His mouth was set in a determined line, but his eyes were worried as he met Steve’s gaze. He hesitate before speaking. “You have to be careful  _ for  _ him,” Rhodey began. “Tony doesn’t know the meaning of the word careful.” He turned on his heel, kicking off the ground and flying directly toward Olympus. Steve was left in a confused daze as he began his journey down the side of Pyra and back towards the outskirts of Athens.

Steve walked the rest of the way back to Olympus, trekking back up the way he came. He knew that with Rhodey flying ahead of him, he was going to inform Fury of their return. That meant that Steve would be expected in the throne room; Fury would be waiting on an explanation for Steve’s extended stay with Tony Stark. And it wouldn’t be pretty.

He walked with purpose this time, rather than wandering through the city. Steve knew that every minute he was away was another minute that Fury sat on Olympus, irate and awaiting his arrival. Fury with a temper was unparalleled, and Steve braced himself before he’d even reached the base of Mount Olympus. Based on his hatred for the god of the forge, Fury would want to know everything about Tony and what was happening on the inside of the volcano. But Steve was resolute; he wouldn’t budge. This would be how he would protect Tony—by keeping the suit a secret. And when the time came, he would aid in the battle with Fury however he could. He would help Tony get out of that volcano.

 

* * *

 

Tony was back to being alone in the pit of the volcano, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lonely. He had been rejuvenated by Rhodey’s visit, and he’d found an ally in Steve as well, he was sure of it. Steve, who had sprawled out on the floor of Tony’s workshop without hesitation, who’d smiled at him softly as he explained his bots. Tony laughed quietly to himself as he went back to work on his suit, and it was a small, disbelieving laugh. Like he couldn’t believe that someone was capable of enjoying his company. Living in isolation for eternity had the ability to do that to a person.

  
He went to work with a new, fiery determination. He knew what awaited Steve and Rhodey on Olympus, and that was a threat. It was a threat that he had gone toe to toe with before, and he’d come out on the losing side. He knew that Rhodey could protect himself, and he was certain that Steve was capable of doing the same. But that didn’t negate the fact that  _ he  _ was what put them in danger. Fury’s hatred of  _ him _ is what had put a target on Rhodey’s back, and would now do the same for Steve, even if he’d only been in Pyra for a couple of hours. Tony pounded at the metal of his new suit with a new passion. He would protect those that would protect him, they would do that together. And the Mark III was only the beginning.


	4. Fury Unmatched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve returns to Olympus reluctantly, and he has to deal with the Olympians' questions about their enemy in the volcano, but Steve doesn't know who to trust quite yet. Tony makes progress on his work.

Steve made fairly good time on his way back to Olympus. He walked steadily up the side of the mountain, and the sun sat on the other side of the city as he traveled. The red-orange hue cast over the city left a twinge of sadness  in his chest; Steve’s Athens was no longer the same as it once was. It was bruised and battered and dirty--torn to pieces by war. He looked away from the city, focusing on the path ahead of him. Steve watched his feet as he walked so as not to trip over any loose branches that had fallen from the trees, and before he knew it, he had made it to the grand entry in the clouds. The peak of Olympus.

Without hesitation, Steve headed straight for the throne room. He knew that Rhodey had flown ahead of him, and that Fury was awaiting his arrival. He walked down the pathway with steady, sure feet. He would go into the grandroom to meet Fury, and he wouldn’t tell him anything about Tony’s haven that he’d built in the bottom of Pyra. Steve couldn’t explain the urge that he felt to protect Tony, but it was an urge that was stronger than he’d imagined. He could protect Tony this way, by keeping his secrets of the volcano.

Steve threw the doors to the throne room open, and he was taken aback by the scene there. Every one of the gods had gathered in the great hall, each of them in their respective thrones. He took the few steps to the threshold, and Fury was watching Steve, a smug look on his face. Steve knew that Fury expected him to bend in the presence of all of the Olympians, to give them all the information that he wanted. Steve met the eyes of each of the gods as he walked towards Fury at the head of them. Maria Hill was seated at his right hand, her face a reflection of Fury’s self-satisfied look. On Fury’s left side was Rhodey, who was poised proudly in his seat. The only way that Steve knew that they were of the same mind where Tony was concerned was the miniscule nod that Rhodey sent his direction, so small that Steve would have missed it had he not been looking for it. He let out a deep breath through his nose as he came to a halt before Fury, standing tall, his jaw set as he did his best to maintain his temper. He knew that this setup was supposed to intimidate him into submission, but he refused to be swayed.

“Steven,” Fury said, his deep voice echoing throughout the chamber. “Welcome back.”

“I’ve told you, please call me Steve,” the oher god replied, sending a tight lipped smile in Fury’s direction. He looked around at the other gods once more, though each of them had their eyes on Fury. They were all here though: Hill, Rhodey, Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Hulk. Everyone of them had their eyes locked on their leader as they awaited the beginning of the interrogation, save for Thor, who glanced in Steve’s direction. Steve wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but Thor’s eyes almost looked... sad. As if he’d been in Steve’s position before. Without lingering on that thought too much, Steve turned to face Fury once again.

“You’ve been away almost the whole day,” Fury said, and it wasn’t a question. There was no disputing that the god knew where Steve had been. There was no point in trying to deny it, either, and Steve nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he replied, and he offered no explanation. No other information. Steve barely refrained from throwing a self-satisfied smirk back in Nick Fury’s face. Fury heaved a heavy, annoyed sigh, his shoulders moving up and down with the action.

“You’ve been with Tony Stark,” Fury said, and again, it wasn’t a question.

Steve withheld another smartass comment; he thought for sure that Fury would strike him down then and there. Instead of providing him with an answer, Steve stared at him in silent defiance. Fury didn’t break the eye contact, but Hill shifted at his right side, growing impatient. Steve’s gaze flicked to her for a moment as she readjusted in her seat, resting her elbow on the arm of her throne and her head in her hand. She huffed to herself before breaking the silence. “It would be better for you,” she began, drawing out her words as if she was talking to a child, “if you told him what he wanted to know.”

Steve was still looking at Fury, but he arched an eyebrow, testing just how far Fury’s patience was willing to go. “I’ve yet to hear him ask a question.”

Rhodey was still seated at Fury’s left side, and he wasn’t looking at Steve,  but Steve saw the god’s mouth twitch upward for the briefest of moments. He imagined that no one ever got to speak Fury the way they _really_ wanted to. He knew that Rhodey had to appease the god for the sake of both him and Tony, and Steve was sure that he’d wanted to tell him how he really felt more than a couple of times.

“How is Tony doing?” Fury asked, aiming for a casual tone, but his voice was strained. His dislike for Tony was so severe that he couldn’t even say his name without the veins in his head pulsing with barely-concealed rage. Steve was almost taken aback. He couldn’t imagine ever hating a person that much, especially not Tony. His thoughts lingered on the god of the forge for a moment longer, remembering his small smile as Steve and Rhodey left Pyra earlier that day.

“Better now that I’ve left him alone, I’m sure” Steve said, feigning disinterest. He wasn’t sure that he was doing such a good job at it, but Fury needed to think that Steve wasn’t planning on returning to see Tony. He needed to think that Tony wasn’t interested in seeing _Steve_ again, for the safety of both of them. For all Steve knew, that last part could be true.

“Oh?” Fury inquired, but Steve knew that he hadn’t convinced him with just that. “What makes you think that Tony Stark wasn’t ecstatic to have the god of love in his home?”

Steve shrugged, “Simple. We didn’t get along. He couldn’t wait to get me out of there.”

“Then why did he pick you up in the first place?”

“I guess he thought that I was one of the Athenians. He thought he was saving someone,” Steve said absentmindedly, recalling the earlier argument between Rhodey and Tony. Tony had come flying at Steve from behind, there was no way he could have recognized him before he grabbed him.

Fury watched Steve skeptically, and Steve didn’t flinch under his gaze this time. He was growing tired of Fury’s “intimidate into submission” attitude, and he stood tall under the god’s gaze. “So why did he bring you back to the volcano? Mortals would have been returned to the city.”

“I guess he realized who I was once we were in the air,” Steve said, and he wasn’t sure whether he was lying at the moment. It would make sense for Tony to return any humans he picked up outside of Pyra, not bring them into the pit of the fire. Maybe Tony had known who he was when he flew toward them, and Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t know how to feel about that yet.

Fury cocked his head to the side as he watched Steve. “Tell us the whole story. You’ve been in collusion with one of the biggest threats to Olympus. It doesn’t look good for you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve shifted his weight on his feet, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wanted to roll his eyes, but what was left of his self-preservation told him that he’d better not. “There’s not much to tell,” he objected yet again. “He thought that I was a human, and he came flying to my rescue. He took me back to the volcano. I left as soon as the ash cleared. There’s nothing else to tell.”

The silence in the throne room was overbearing to the gods that were gathered, but Steve was enjoying this a little too much. He didn’t want to tell everyone else what he and Tony had talked about; he wanted to keep their conversation to himself. He would rather have kept the whole thing to himself—it was the only thing that had happened recently that didn’t leave him with a hollow feeling in his chest. Steve had felt full when he left, the butterflies in his stomach alive at the thought of returning to the lonely god in the mountain. But with all of the Olympians staring him down in this emergency council meeting or _whatever_ this was, he needed to give them something.

“I don’t care about what _happened_ ,” Fury began, and he enunciated each word, his anger growing with every syllable. “Tell me what you saw inside the volcano. What is he building?”

Steve gaped at the leader of the gods openly, unsure about what he’d just heard. He looked around the room, and every one of the other gods were staring decidedly at something that was not him, avoiding eye contact with both him and Fury. He could feel that anger radiating from the god at the head of the room as the silence prolonged, and part of Steve felt smug. This all-powerful, all-knowing god of gods was absolutely _terrified_ of what Tony could do—what he could create—to take back Olympus. He stepped forward by just an inch, but it was enough to assert his confidence. He would not back down, even with Fury’s bearing him to him like daggers. “He wasn’t building anything.”

Fury sat forward on his throne, no longer in the relaxed position that he’d begun the conversation in. “You’re telling me,” he huffed, “that the god of the forge, fire, and _metalworking_ wasn’t working on anything at all?”

“No,” Steve retorted, and there was no room for debate in his answer. He would not give on this; he could at least do that for Tony. Rhodey sat stiffly to the left of Fury, and though his head was bowed, his eyes searched out Steve. He offered him a sly smile in support. Steve uncrossed his arms from his chest, aware that he looked defensive, and spoke again. “You tossed him in that volcano, forbade everyone from seeing him, and forbade him from ever leaving. Where would he find the supplies to build something? He’s got his automaton that he left Olympus with--that’s it. He’s _alone_ down there, and that’s on you.”

The tension in the room only grew with Steve’s words, and most of the other Olympians were still avoiding being dragged into the conversation. Maria Hill, however, was not like any of the other Olympians. She rose from her throne with a grace that only the queen of Olympus could possess, but her face held some of the rage that was radiating from Fury on her left. “How dare you?” she began, and her words shook with anger. “You don’t know the threat that he presents. He could bring about the destruction of our home. Our entire way of life.”

_Your entire way of life, not ours,_ Steve corrected her mentally. But he wouldn’t argue this any further in front of the rest of them. All he would do is infuriate Fury and Hill further, and none of the other gods would come to his defense. Steve wasn’t naive enough to expect that. “I don’t think that he does,” he muttered, “but I’m telling you, I couldn’t see anything that he was working on.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Rhodey finally spoke, lifting his head to meet Fury’s startled gaze. “Nick, I go to and from there all the time when you ask me to. I haven’t seen him working on anything; you know I would’ve told you if I had.”

Fury reached up and scratched the back of his head, thinking about the Messenger God’s words. “We’ll see,” he said. “I believe you, Rhodes, but he was inside Pyra for longer than you ever have been.” Fury turned his angry eyes back towards Steve. “New rule: you are not allowed to leave Olympus without an escort. I don’t trust you, but I trust them.”

Steve scoffed in disbelief, but he knew that this was an opportunity in disguise. All he needed to do was make some friends, and lucky for him, they were still throwing him a welcome party. The Olympians loved a reason to celebrate, even if there was contention among them.

 

* * *

 

Tony was making progress with the Mark III—and he was more scared by that fact than he should have been. After all the time he had put into perfecting it, he should have been thrilled to be this close to being done, but his nearly-completed suit made the impending threat more real. Flying outside of Pyra, as Rhodey had said, meant infuriating Fury—and infuriating Fury meant unimaginable danger. But Tony needed to test the suit’s flight before he could progress any further.

Rather than moving to put the suit on, he tinkered with some of the metal in front of him mindlessly. His thoughts were far away, up on Olympus with Steve and Rhodey. It was dark out, the sun had long since gone down, but Tony could hear the thunder rolling outside of the volcano. He was far too familiar with that sound; it meant that Fury was angry. A storm was guaranteed to brew when Fury was angry. Tony only hoped that Steve and Rhodey were looking out for each other at the top of the mountain.

His nerves kept him from getting any real work done on his suit, and Tony knew that he’d be up all night working anyway. He stood from his table abruptly and paced the length of the workshop, worrying, even when he knew there was nothing he could do without putting them all in direct danger. Steve seemed smart enough to know how to stay off of Fury’s bad side, but he also seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn’t back down, especially to someone like Fury. Rhodey was cunning--Tony knew that his friend would do what he had to in order to look out for Tony, and he hoped that meant Steve by extension. If Steve was careless, Tony suspected that  Rhodey would do his best to spin it all in a way that looked better for all of them. The intricate web that had been weaved meant that if one of them was in trouble, they were all in trouble. Although there was strength in numbers, they would need more than just three Olympians to stand a chance when Fury decided to turn on them.

The thunder shook the volcano around him and Tony distracted himself from his worries by pacing the length of his workshop. His bots were in their charging ports, but upon sensing his sudden movement, they whirred to life and followed him as he walked. He glanced down and smiled at them for a moment. Even if they were robots, they were able to provide more comfort than he’d ever imagined. Every now and then they got on his nerves, but at times like this he was grateful to have them around. It was as if they could pick up on his emotions through some connection that they’d formed when he’d activated them.

Tony came back around to sit at his workbench and Dum-E and You sat patiently at his feet, while Butterfingers whirred back around to his charging base. Tony toyed the wires that he had been working on, hardly attempting to finish the hardwiring of the suit. He knew that he needed to be ready in case Fury’s anger took a turn for the worst tonight, but he couldn’t think about anything other than the god of love.

He’d heard about Steve before, though he hadn’t known it at the time, but Tony had a hard time believing the man that he’d just met was the same god that he’d heard about. According to legend, the god of love was unsettling sort of enticing--someone that you couldn’t help being drawn to, whether you liked him or not. Tony had mostly heard about Steve from the whispers of the people while he was in Athens’ trying to defend the city from the Spartans. The people adored Steve, though Tony hadn’t known his name at the time. But a lot of the Athenians had talked about the alarm that came with being so drawn to someone without _knowing_ them. That was the god of love’s power, so to speak; everyone would do everything in their power to please him, even complete strangers. Steve could end wars that way if he chose to, but Tony didn’t imagine that the man he’d met earlier was fond of his gift. Steve didn’t seem like the type that enjoyed forcing people into things, and that’s essentially what his gift was—coercion.

Tony wondered vaguely if that was why he was so automatically drawn to Steve, because of Steve’s enchantments or whatever it was called. He’d thought that, technically being an Olympian, he would be immune to it, but he’d never come in contact with a god like Steve before. In fact, the _only_ god he’d been in contact with for what seemed like eons was Rhodey. Tony had never needed to think about whether or not he was vulnerable to another god’s charms, and in Steve’s case, he wanted to be immune to the god’s pull. Tony wasn’t even sure if he’d imagined the connection between the two of them, but if it was there, he wanted it to be genuine. He surprised himself with the thought, but smiled to himself despite the shocking realization.

He shook his head to himself, pulling himself out of his reverie. The time to linger on thoughts about Steve would be later, after he had finished his work. After he had figured out how he was going to protect the ones he cared about from Fury’s rage. Then Tony could figure out what it was about Steve that kept him circling through his brain.

 

* * *

 

The next day on Olympus was for Steve’s welcoming celebration, and apparently it was to be an all day event, something that Steve himself was very disgruntled with. Fury had made it clear that, since the party was in his honor, he was expected to be present all day. At an sort of social gathering was the last place that Steve wanted to be, but after angering Fury as much as he had yesterday, Steve wouldn’t risk pissing him off any more today. Early that morning, the minor gods from all over Greece had begun arriving, and before lunch time, the top of Mount Olympus was filled with more immortal beings that Steve had ever seen in one place.

But Steve’s mind was on Tony, alone in the volcano across the city from him. For all Steve knew, Tony could have gone back to his normal routine, never thinking twice about him, but meeting Tony had thrown a wrench in Steve’s life. He wasn’t able to explain it, but he’d spent the night before lying awake turning the events of the day over and over in his mind.

Now, Steve was walking aimlessly, pushing through the crowds of gods on Olympus. He made his way to the throne room, scenes from the Olympians’ meeting the night before playing in his mind. All of the other Olympians had gathered in the great hall, and the minor gods that were visiting had dispersed throughout the dining hall, courtyards, and the rest of the mountain, exploring the place as they pleased. Everyone in the throne room were talking and laughing amongst themselves, glasses in their hands always filled with drinks to their likings. The glasses were charmed to refill as soon as they were emptied of their contents, so the gods drank freely, the alcohol taking effect on their immortal bodies—and the day was only halfway through. Despite there being a party going on, Fury was seated in his throne and everyone gathered around him in a loose circle. Steve scoffed to himself, the obvious power move of the god annoying him. It was as if Fury was saying, ‘Yes, I’m the leader. If you want to see me, you have to come _here._ ’

Steve circled the throne room, nodding his acknowledgement to those that greeted him. He smiled slightly as visitors welcomed him to Olympus, never knowing exactly who was speaking to him, and never stopping long enough to ask. He was used to being the center of attention, but that didn’t mean that he had ever grown to like it. Steve came to a halt where Rhodey stood, reaching out to shake his hand. Rhodey was the only one on Olympus who Steve had decided he wanted to befriend, and he was relieved when Rhodey took Steve’s hand, giving it a firm shake. He threw Steve a tight-lipped smile, and Steve guessed he was always tense when Fury was near. Steve may have been new to Olympus, but he hadn’t seen Rhodey relax once on the Mountain.

“Welcome to Olympus, officially, I guess,” Rhodey told him, and Steve chuckled in response.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about this place yet,” Steve said, and he shook his head as he spoke, a visible portrayal of the exasperation that he felt. If he felt vexation towards anyone in particular, it was with Fury, but mostly Steve was just annoyed with the whole place. Between the way that all of the Olympians tiptoed around Fury, the constant tension on the mountain, and Steve feeling like he had to constantly look over his shoulder, he wished more than anything that things could go back to way they were in Athens. But all he could do now was make the best of this new situation.

“Already wishing you were back at Pyra, huh?” Rhodey asked, lowering his voice at the mention of Tony’s volcano. He gave Steve a knowing look, a smirk playing at his lips.

Steve’s eyes widened minutely before he shushed Rhodey, looking around with subtlety to make sure that Fury wasn’t listening in on their conversation. “Maybe a little bit,” Steve told him, his voice just above a whisper. “Olympus is exhausting.”

Rhodey shrugged with nonchalance,  a motion telling Steve that Rhodey knew exactly what he was talking about. “Olympus stays exhausting, man,” he said. “Imagine having to carry all of Fury’s over-dramatic messages to people all over the world who couldn’t care less. Also exhausting.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder once more, aware that they were still surrounded by the other Olympians and minor gods. “Kind of makes me wish Fury had just thrown me out, too.”

Rhodey shook his head sharply, cutting Steve off before he could say anything else. “No, it doesn’t,” he countered. “Don’t say that. I am the only person who had ever been into Pyra until yesterday. You haven’t seen Tony all these years; I have. You don’t want that.”

He gave Steve a solemn look, and Steve was automatically apologetic. “I know, you’re right. I just. . . wish I could have stayed there. I’ll never get to leave this place now.”

“Never get to leave _unattended_ ,” Rhodey corrected him, and he knocked Steve’s shoulder playfully as he spoke. “Here I am, attendee. You don’t leave this mountain without me.”

Steve laughed, mostly with relief, happy to know that he had a friend on Olympus. “Sure thing, boss.”

Before they could talk about anything else, Thor approached the two of them in the great hall, with none other than Natasha Romanoff following shortly behind him. Steve tensed automatically, preparing for something similar to his earlier interaction with Clint, but Rhodey nudged him discreetly. “They’re cool. No trouble.” Steve didn’t relax completely, but Rhodey was a better judge of the Olympians than he was, and he was reassured at his words.

“Hello, Steve,” Thor greeted, his voice rumbling deep in his chest and a grin spreading from ear to ear with genuine excitement. Steve couldn’t help but notice that this Thor was very different from the Thor he’d seen in the throne room last night—with sad eyes and a somber face. Steve returned a hesitant smile, not because he was nervous, but because he didn’t know whether or not to trust Thor yet.

“Hi, uh—Thor, god of—?”

“The seas,” Thor affirmed, clasping Steve’s shoulder as he did. “And all that comes with it.”

“Right,” Steve murmured. “I knew that.” He really did know what the Olympians were gods of, but matching names and faces to people he’d only ever seen in statues before was more difficult than he’d care to admit.

Thor laughed heartily, and his energy was contagious. Natasha, who had followed the sea god to join them, was smiling as she watched him speak, and Steve felt himself loosen up a little bit as well. Rhodey was already at ease to Steve’s left side, and Steve suddenly felt silly for being on his guard automatically.

“And I’m Natasha,” the redhead said from behind Thor, reaching around to give a small wave.

“Goddess of the hunt,” Steve finished for her. “I heard about you in Athens—protector of those who can’t protect themselves. The Athenians called on you while they were under attack.”

A shadow came over her face, and Steve didn’t know why he’d brought it up. But he’d resented Natasha for not showing up when the city was under siege; he’d resented all of the Olympians for abandoning their people. But after seeing the look on Natasha’s face, Steve wondered if maybe they had wanted to help. Maybe Fury’s pride had kept them from aiding the Athenians. “There was nothing we could do,” the goddess said, and her earlier carefree demeanor had vanished entirely. “Tony was out of Pyra, we were not to leave Olympus.”

Thor glanced at her, his easy going nature dissipating with the conversation. “Fury has a way of. . . making sure that we all do as he says,” he said, a darkness in his tone. Steve was sure there was more to that story, but he didn’t push the subject.

“He’ll do the same for you,” Natasha told Steve, holding his gaze as she spoke, her voice lower than it had been. “He knows your weakness now, or at least has a guess. He’ll hold that over you. Be careful. There are no lengths he won’t go to.”

“Trust me, friend,” Thor cut in. “My brother has been thrown from Olympus, just as your Tony Stark has been.”

Steve gaped at Thor, his mouth hanging open. He cleared his throat, hoping that a blush wasn’t already working it’s way up his neck. “He’s not _my_ Tony,” Steve muttered, looking to the floor. Rhodey chuckled next to him, and if Steve wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now.

“I’m sure Steve has become acquainted enough with Fury already to know that he should be taken seriously,” Rhodey cut in, and Steve was thankful for him filling the silence.

“I’ve had a couple of run-ins with him already,” Steve told the gods, and though none of them seemed surprised, they weren’t relieved at the news either.

Natasha’s scowl deepened and her eyes drifted around the room before landing on Steve once again. He thought that maybe she was taking a head count—figuring out who would be her allies and enemies if a fight were to break out without warning. Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that looking over their shoulder was something they’d have to get used to. Or maybe the Olympians were already used to it, and he was just now catching on. “Be careful,” Natasha warned him, her voice rigid. “Having Fury as an enemy means having everyone as an enemy. There’s not much we can do if he decides you’re an adversary to Olympus.”

Thor nodded solemnly, “My brother—he may not have been the best, but he was still my brother—he’s been trapped in the Underworld for centuries, given the task of overseeing the souls of the dead. He and Fury had a disagreement, we’ll say. That was his punishment; he’s trapped there. I tried to defend him, but Fury . . . he wouldn’t hear any other sides. His mind was made up, and the consequences for insubordination are always disastrous.”  

Steve shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say next. He didn’t agree with Natasha—that once Fury made up his mind, no one could fight back. They _could_ fight back, but there was no way to stand a chance unless they were all unified against Fury. “What if—” he cut himself off, hesitating for a moment longer. He took a deep breath before continuing. Everyone in the group was staring at him, confused looks on their faces as he whispered the question that no one had ever asked before. “He can’t banish everyone from Olympus. What if we all stood up to him?”

Thor shushed Steve before he could say anything else, stepping closer and into his space. Thor’s tone was menacing as he spoke through clenched teeth, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention to them, but loud enough to make sure that Steve understood. “You’re talking about an all out war. A war that would affect more than just us. Think of the city, of the Athenians. There would be chaos and disaster in every corner of the earth. Fury would make sure of it.”

Natasha reached out and put her hand firmly on Thor’s chest, trying to put some distance between him and the god of love. Steve was aware that Rhodey had tensed beside him, but he made no move to defend him, and Steve understood that. Even if Steve had his suspicions about how Rhodey actually felt about Fury, the truth was that he still appeared to everyone else as their leader’s right-hand man. If anyone had overheard the conversation and saw Rhodey come to Steve’s defense, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Before anyone could say anything else, thunder rolled around them, shaking the clouds that they were standing on. All of the visitors on Olympus looked around, some of them bringing their hands up to try to regain their balance. No one had time to react before a blinding light flashed through the sky, followed by a crackle and an electric hum filled the air. Steve turned on his heel, sure that he would see Fury standing at his throne with a lightning bolt pointed in their direction. Surely what he’d heard had just been the warning shot. But as Steve stared at the thunder god across the great hall, Fury was not looking at him. Fury was standing at the edge of the clouds, his back to the crowd, and another lightning bolt in his hand. His right arm was reared back as he prepared to throw another bolt, and some of the minor gods gathered around him, cheering at the display.

Steve stood in place, fear gripping him in a way that it never had before. He heard Rhodey whisper in disbelief, “Please, no. . .” next to him, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing. He hoped that he was wrong, that Tony hadn’t been stupid enough to leave Pyra so soon after everything that happened. But across the dining hall, Fury was laughing maniacally, doubling over as he did. It was the only thing keeping him from throwing another bolt over the edge of  the clouds.

“That will teach Stark to leave his own personal hell,” Fury boomed, and the fear that had been gripping Steve turned from ice to fire, his body fuming with hatred as he watched the god. Rhodey gripped Steve’s forearm with a strength that Steve was unaware he had, but he was grateful for it in that moment.

“Don’t. Move,” Rhodey hissed under his breath. All of the attention was on Fury, and he turned to look over the crowd that had begun to gather in the throne room. Rhodey dug his fingers into Steve’s arm, making sure that he was listening before he continued. “You don’t leave Olympus. I’ll go check on him after everyone goes to bed, and I’ll tell you what I know. If Fury knows that I left, I can tell him that it was to warn Tony again. If you go with me, he’ll know that’s a lie. Do. Not. Leave. This. Mountain.”

Steve gave him a firm nod, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to control his breathing. He turned to Thor and Natasha, who had been watching Fury, but turned at the sound of the hurried conversation behind them. Nat watched them with dejected eyes, and Steve was sure that Fury’s leadership was not something that she approved of. Thor didn’t look surprised either, but his jaw was set in a hard line as he turned back to them. Steve met their gazes with a daunting look, and he regained his composure, suddenly more sure of himself. “You still think we shouldn’t do anything?”


	5. The Flame Falls Away

Tony had been up all night and half of the next day working tirelessly on Mark III. Well, attempting to work tirelessly on the suit. Between worrying about Steve and Rhodey and stopping his work every now and then to mess with Dum-E—who was surprisingly more persistent than the other bots—Tony was taking longer than usual to make any progress. One minute, he would be nearly done with the wiring running through the legs, and the next, his mind would be trapped in some sort of worst case scenario of what was happening up on Olympus. What if Fury decided he didn’t want to welcome Steve to join the Olympians after all? What if Rhodey was no longer able to hold his tongue, and he said something that would get him into trouble that he couldn’t get out of? But the thought that Tony feared most—what if something happened and he wasn’t able to help them?

Before he knew it, it was mid-afternoon the following day. Tony  hadn’t felt like he was making any progress, so he surprised himself when he connected the final wires. All he had to do was _think_ about the suit powering up, and it hummed to life, heat radiating off of the metal beneath his fingers. Now all that was left was finishing touches, and to see if it _worked._ Red metallic paint over the smooth surface—the color that best suited a god of fire. Gold accents because after all, Tony was fond of flashy. He was bold, dangerous, a force to be reckoned with, and his suit would epitomize his personality. Desperate to finally be done with Mark III, he rushed to assemble the suit around his frame. He reached out with his mind, coaxing the metal to come together, and the suit did most of the assembling for him. Tony laughed, elated that it was working. Sometimes he forgot the extent of his own abilities, and the suit bending to his telepathic command was a shock—but a welcome one.

Tony tested the joints in the suit, walking carefully from his work table the large bed across the room where he slept. His bots whirred to life at the sound of the machinery working, circling his feet anxiously. Tony couldn’t help the smile behind the new mask, looking down at his creations through a computerized lens. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders, the suit following his every move with ease. Tony could have burst with the pride that filled his chest, and his small smile turned into to full-fledged girn. He’d done it; he’d perfected the suit. Now all that was left to do was fly it.

He walked to the cavern exit on the wall to the side of him, and the bots started to follow him, but once they realized he was leaving, they fell back to their charging ports. If Dum-E was able, he would have whined nervously. They could sense the anxiety rolling off of Tony’s body, even through the new suit. Tony knew that Fury was pissed, and Rhodey would kill him if he knew that Tony was stepping outside of the volcano. But he had to know if the suit flew, and he couldn’t afford to wait. He needed to know _now._

At the edge of the cave’s opening, Tony stood for a moment, seeing the city below him and the mountain on the other side of it. He glanced at the skies, wary of any weather change that could take place as quickly as Fury could change moods. For now, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, and Tony didn’t hesitate any longer before throwing his body from the ledge.

He wasn’t prepared for how quickly he plummeted to the ground. In his recklessness, his only thought was ‘What could go wrong?’ —even as he rapidly approached the earth.But he fell for only a moment before his mind reached out, and he grasped control of the suit. _Fly_ , he thought, frantic, teetering on the edge of panic.

Less than a second later, something clicked. Tony was speeding towards the clouds, higher than he’d ever flown before.

The pale blue skies engulfed him completely, and he was filled with an overwhelming comfort, unable to help himself from letting out a boisterous victory yell. He burst into elated laughter, almost disbelieving, and he swooped down towards the trees surrounding Pyra, the wind whistling through the new metal. Tony was almost childlike as he flew, his eyes alight with joy behind the mask.

He was only gifted with a few blissful moments before the sky darkened ominously, and Tony knew that Fury had spotted him. He’d gotten carried away in his excitement, flying to the other side of Athens, and he turned around in a hurry. Tony calculated how close he could get to the ground without disrupting the city, planning to evade any of Fury’s lightning bolts, but before he could swoop down among the crumbling buildings, he heard the first roll of thunder. Tony clenched his jaw, tightening every muscle in his body as he urged himself forward.   _Faster_ he pushed the suit, hoping that the thought alone was enough to propel him all the way to the volcano.

Tony was a little more than halfway there, and he was gaining momentum steadily, but it wasn’t enough. Thunder clapped threateningly close, and without warning, a shock ran through the suit. A bolt had made contact, and Tony’s whole body felt as it was on fire, a current setting every nerve ending aflame. He went down, spinning out of control, his head hitting the side inside of the suit ruthlessly. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, and he’d hit the ground at top speed in no time. The metal shielded his body from considerable damage, but a sickening screech filled the air as he slid through the dirt. He came to a halt, his head just shy of a boulder in the area surrounding Pyra.

The electricity running through the suit didn’t stop after Tony hit the ground. He was immobile, sprawled out  in the dirt, apart from his body jolting occasionally with the current that ran through the metal. He stayed that way, cursing himself silently. Tony should have known that Fury would be watching out for him, especially with Steve and Rhodey so newly returned to Olympus. He lifted his head, trying to see exactly where he was on the ground, but the suit was offline, and all he could see was the darkness that had surrounded him completely. Tony threw his head back, wincing as the dull throbbing only intensified at the contact.

 _How could I be so stupid?_ was the last thought that crossed Tony’s mind. Before he could linger on it, let it overwhelm him, let the thought swallow him completely—he blacked out.

* * *

 Rhodey walked with purpose to the edge of the mountain, and Steve followed at a short distance behind him. Turning on his heel at the exit, Rhodey sent Steve a heated glare. “You’re not coming with me, Rogers,” he said with finality.

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Rhodey turned around, taking off into the gray skies before he could hear another word. Steve stood, staring after Rhodey, worrying for both of them. Rhodey, his only friend and ally on Olympus. Tony, his—his what exactly? His friend? What could he even call Tony? Someone who had tried to rescue him, despite Steve _not_ needing that help thank you very much. Someone that he couldn’t stop thinking about, stop _worrying_ about.

Steve shook his head and made his way back to his quarters; he wouldn’t risk endangering Rhodey by leaving Olympus alone. He walked from the entrance to the courtyard, filled with a statue of every Olympian, save for Tony. His chest ached at the sight of the marble scattered in the garden—rubble that had been the fire god’s bust only days before.

Steve knew that Rhodey would take care of Tony once he’d gotten to Pyra, but Steve couldn’t help the ripple of anxiousness that rolled through his body. He wanted so badly to be on the way to the volcano with his newfound ally, but Steve knew that the god was right. For both of them to leave would only cause more trouble. And the last thing they needed was more trouble.

Instead, he walked slowly back to his empty room, his sandaled feet dragging as he went. He walked through the cold, white stone house, and the stark contrast that it stood to Prya was overwhelming.  He crawled into his bed, the satin of the blush pink sliding against his skin easily. The bed was cold, and Steve sighed heavily, closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow.

“Hi, Steve.”

Steve shot up, his eyes scanning the dark room, searching for the source of the voice. Natasha stepped out of the shadows, and Steve scrambled to pull the sheets to keep more of his bare chest covered. He had to figure out a way to keep the other Olympians out of his corners.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, amusement evident on her face, but she didn’t say anything about it. “I just came to check on you,” she said, and Steve couldn’t keep the confused look off of his face. “I may not be the god of love, but I’m observant. You’re worried about him. You care about him.”

“I care about everyone,” Steve retorted, automatically defensive. “I’m the god of love. It’s sort of my job description.”

Natasha walked towards him, perching at the foot of the bed. “Of course. Sorry,” she said, crossing her legs daintily, not sounding sorry at all. “Rhodey went to check on Tony and you had to stay  here?”

He looked away from her, nodding once. She sighed, watching him with careful eyes. Steve’s body language gave away every bit of what he was feeling. “He’s in good hands. Rhodey will know what to do.”

“I know that,” Steve laughed shortly. “It was hard to watch—Tony being struck down like that. I can’t understand why Fury did it.”

“For amusement?” Natasha suggested, and Steve felt physically sick at the words. Someone who caused bodily harm to someone else for no reason other than entertainment. “Rhodey knows to lay low after one of Fury’s outbursts. He’ll take care of it.”

“Have you been to Pyra?” Steve asked, shocked at the goddess’s knowledge of the situation.

Natasha shook her head. “No. I’m observant,” she replied, which wasn’t an answer at all for Steve.

He waited for her to say more, but she stayed perched at the foot of the bed, looking back at him. She finally readjusted, turning her body and pulling one leg up onto the bed so that she could face him. “I know that you’re technically an Olympian, so you know who we are, the stories that the mortals tell. But you haven’t been on Olympus for a long time.”

“What about it?” She had Steve’s attention, and he was leaning forward intently now.

“Fury’s... methods. No one likes them, but he’s one of the most powerful, if not _the_ most powerful of all of us. I know you don’t like him, but there’s no way to fight him and win, Steve. It can’t be done. If there was a way, we would have tried it.”

Steve took that in for a moment, his mind already wandering to Tony. Natasha said _one_ of the most powerful. And even if he was the most powerful… Well, Steve couldn’t help but think that there was still power in numbers. “So how does he...—why are you guys loyal to him?”

“For most of us? Liabilities. We all have people that we care about. Fury is willing to use those people against us in order to maintain his position as the leader. In order to prevent the upheaval of Olympus. We all saw what happened to Thor’s brother; no one is willing to risk that again.”

Steve watched Natasha carefully, turning her words over in his head. “You said ‘most of us.’ Are there some that aren’t loyal to him? Are _you_? Do you agree with what he’s doing?”

Natasha met his gaze once more, though her tone was still disinterested. “I don’t agree with the way that he rules Olympus—he rules with fear. But I have no choice but to obey. You aren’t understanding me, Steve. _All_ of us are loyal to him, but most of us only abide because we have to. He has power over us—people we love that would be in danger if we were to fight back.”

“Was Tony banished for insubordination?” Steve couldn’t help himself, the question had tumbled from his lips before he’d even had a chance to think it through. Natasha’s mouth quirked upward to one side, but she schooled her features into a hard blank stare with ease.

She shook her head slowly. “Fury threw Tony out centuries ago because he saw Tony as a threat. We all liked Tony. He built things constantly, and a lot of his creations are still here on Olympus—Rhodey’s shoes, Clint’s bow and arrows, _my_ bow and arrows, even Fury’s lightning bolts were designed by him. It wasn’t until he started creating things that could be a problem for Fury the he exiled him.”

“Dum-E...” Steve muttered under his breath. Tony had told him as much already—Fury had seen what he could do. And he didn’t like it.

“So you’ve met the bot then,” Natasha mused, cutting off Steve’s train of thought. “I think it’s more than that, though. After Fury kicked him out, everyone was confused. No one knew why Tony was gone all of a sudden. All Tony took with him was his bot, and he left. There was no big blow up, no fight, no threat on Fury’s part.”

“That you knew of,” Steve was quick to interrupt her. He didn’t believe for a second that Tony would leave Rhodey on Pyra without some serious threat to their safety.

Natasha nodded solemnly. “Yes, that we knew of,” she allowed. “But after he left, there were whispers around Olympus, and people were saying nasty things about Tony. This was centuries ago, and the whispers haven’t stopped. Whatever rumors Fury started about Tony—they’ve just kept spreading for hundreds of years. Whether they’re true or not, he’s been feeding them to all of the Olympians, and with Tony unable to defend himself—who do you think they’re going to believe?”

“You don’t believe him?” Steve questioned Natasha, still not sure where she stood in all of this.

“I’m observant,” she repeated, and Steve grew frustrated with her. She put a hand up to stop any sort of retort from him, companied with a warning glance, and he watched her, waiting for an explanation. “Nothing that I know about Tony from his time on the Mountain has ever lined up with what everyone was saying about him. That he’s a threat, that he wants to bring about the _downfall_ of Olympus. I don’t believe any of that, and there are a couple of other Olympians that think that. Thor is one of them.”

Steve sat up a little straighter in his bed, the sheets pooled at his waist, but he couldn’t be bothered with them this time. This new information gave him a glimmer of hope that he wanted so badly to grasp on to and run with—the hope that there could be some sort of  unity among the gods, something to persuade them to rise up against Fury. “So what did you come here to tell me?” Steve persisted, looking at the goddess in front of him with an unspoken challenge in his eyes. _Go ahead_ , he thought _, tell me all of it_.

Natasha recognized the taunt in his voice and on his face, but she didn’t react. She stood to leave his room with ease, headed towards the french doors on the opposite side of the bed. With one hand on the door, she looked over her shoulder before opening it, her red hair framing her face, preventing Steve from reading any of the emotions there. “Not everyone here is his enemy, Steve. Or yours. When we have a plan, when there is a way to _make this work_ , come find us. We’ll help.”

She left without another word, the gold linen of her dress flowing behind her as she left, and Steve hopped up to slam the door shut. He stood with his back to the window, his brain racing and his chest heaving as he tried to wrap his brain around his encounter with the huntress of Olympus. He wanted nothing more than to run to Pyra—to give Tony some of the hope that had his own heart in a frenzied state. But he knew that all he could do was wait for Rhodey to return and tell him what Natasha had said. Maybe then, they could begin constructing a plan. Steve didn’t care who he made enemies out of. He would free Tony from his exile. He would bring him home. 

* * *

 Rhodey flew close to the ground, low enough that he hoped nobody could see him from the clouds above. He kept his eyes down, scanning for signs of Tony in the low light. The sun had long since gone down, and if Tony hadn’t made it back to Prya, he could have landed anywhere in the stretch between Olympus and the volcano.

He did his best not to fly too fast; he didn’t want to miss Tony if he was somewhere in the wooded area—but if he _had_ made it back home, Rhodey didn’t want to take too long to get there either. He slowed down only a fraction, training his eyes on the ground below him. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed the familiar gleam of Tony’s suit out of the corner of his eye.

Rhodey veered to the left without hesitation, his chiton beating painfully against his legs as he flew. Lowering himself to the ground where he’d seen the reflection, he made sure to land beside the suit and not on top of it. Rhodey’s hands hovered over the cold metal helplessly, unsure of what to do next. He pulled at the face mask with caution at first—he didn’t even know if he would be able to remove it without Tony’s help. But the suit creaked under the pressure, and Rhodey pulled harder at the mask, his fingers finding a grip and refusing to give until he’d succeeded in ripping the faceplate clean off.

Tony’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment before they were closed again, but it was enough for Rhodey to breathe a sigh of relief. He pulled Tony upright, but Tony was deadweight in his arms, and Rhodey struggled to get him to his feet. Tony mumbled incoherently as they stood, his legs slack beneath him. Rhodey draped Tony’s arms over his shoulder and drug him as carefully as he could, struggling up the side of the volcanic mountain.

By the time he’d made it to the familiar cavern entrance, Rhodey had sweat running down the side of his face and he was nearly dead on his feet. He pulled Tony through the cave, walking steadily toward the workshop itself. As soon as he made it to the bed on the opposite side of Tony’s workspace, he laid Tony down as gently as he could manage with the suit still confining his body. Rhodey moved to the other side of the room, sitting heavily on the workbench, his head resting in his hands.

It didn’t take as long as Rhodey thought it would for Tony to come back to consciousness, and he looked up at the sound of the god rolling over, the metal sliding over the ridiculous satin sheets on the bed. Tony groaned as he sat up, his suit creaking with the movement. “Rhodey?” he asked, bringing a hand up to cradle his head as he glanced across the workshop.

“Rise and shine, buddy,” Rhodey gave his friend a half-hearted smile. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”

Tony laughed weakly, but a sharp cough cut him off, and he bent over almost unwillingly as he tried to regain his composure. “Rhodes, stupid is my middle name,” he managed, the words coming out in quick, short breaths.

“I’m serious, Tony. You could have been seriously hurt—more than you are _now._ ”

Tony stood on shaky, metal-clad legs, and began to tug at the suit, pulling the dead metal off of his body. The suit had powered down in the fall, and at this point, the only way to get it off was to pry it off.  “Look, I know—I _know_ okay,” he said, his voice still weak and bordering on pleading. “It’s just—you’re up there, and now—now Steve is up there. Anything could go wrong at any moment. At _any_ moment, Rhodey.”

“And you needed to be ready,” the other god finished for him.

“I needed to be ready,” Tony answered, his voice just above a whisper. “I needed to be ready, and now I’m not. I’ll have to rebuild.”

Rhodey sighed, standing up and moving to lean on the work table in front of him. Tony raised his head, and the dejected looked that had covered his features sent a pang through Rhodey’s chest. “You can rebuild, Tony. You have time, you have the capability. Steve and I can take care of ourselves on Olympus.”

“If something happens—If Fury tries something, and I can’t help ... —I would never forgive myself.”

“I know. Tony, nothing's going to happen to us,” Rhodey repeated, frustrated. “Fury just _shot you down_ , Tones. I don’t think he’s going to try anything else for a while. I mean his first thought was probably ‘threat neutralized.’”  

“It _flew_ , Rhodey. It flew _perfectly_ ,” Tony interrupted, going on as if Rhodey hadn’t even spoken. “The only thing I have left to do is bring the weapons system online. Then we can—”

“No, we can’t!” Rhodey threw his arms up in exasperation as he yelled. “We _can’t_ , Tony. We can’t do anything yet. We don’t have a plan; we don’t even have anyone on our _side._ ”

Tony sat back down on the bed after successfully discarding the rest of the scratched metal of the suit. “There’s Steve, right?” he asked, and his voice carried just a hint of yearning—Rhodey knew that voice. He recognized the wistfulness there.

“Yes, there’s Steve,” Rhodey sighed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face entirely. “You guys and your plotting. You’re fucking perfect for each other.”

Tony’s face clouded over in confusion. “Plotting? What’s he plotting?” Because that’s not right. Steve shouldn’t be plotting anything. Steve should be laying low. Steve should be _staying out of trouble_. The panic tightening its grip on his stomach was something that Tony was familiar with, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

“Your boy is up on Olympus talking to the other gods. About rebellion.” Rhodey cocked an eyebrow in Tony’s direction, and Tony shrugged helplessly. He hadn’t said anything to Steve about rebellion. Hell, his main goal for Mark III was protection, not _rebellion._

Tony shrugged again, looking up at Rhodey. “I didn’t give him that idea. You know I didn’t,” he argued. “Fury already hates the guy; maybe it’s just time that the Fury Regime comes to an end. Fucking finally.” Tony looked away from Rhodey, but the anxiousness rippling through his body was making it hard for him to appear so nonchalant.

“Well, we may _have_ a plan soon. If you don’t get yourself killed first.”

Tony’s head snapped back up in an instant, and suddenly, the only thought filling his mind was _freedom_. “We may have a what?”

“A plan,” Rhodey confirmed, nodding once with conviction. “It looks like your boyfriend is good at making friends. And if those new friends are willing to reevaluate where their loyalties lie, we can finally get some sort of offense together. We can get you back to Olympus.”

“Back to Olympus . . .” Tony trailed off, and in an instant, the only thing that mattered to him was being around actual _people_ again. Tony swelled with pride at the thought of Steve, on Olympus, conversing with the other gods and speaking in hushed tones about Fury. He knew that the thought should worry him more than anything—Steve being so reckless. But he couldn’t help the flush that crept up his neck at the idea—someone else was on Olympus looking out for him.

Rhodey cleared his throat, bringing Tony back to the workshop. “Yeah, back to Olympus. But before we need a plan, we need to fix your suit.”

Tony stood abruptly, walking with purpose around the workshop and picking up pieces of metal as he went. “The faster we get this fixed, the better,” he said, bending with difficulty to gather some of the scraps. The bruising on his body had started to heal already, but Tony knew it would take a couple of days to get back to normal all together.

“Right.” Rhodey pushed off the worktable, crossing the room to where Tony had just dropped a tangled mess of wiring. “Well, we’d better get started.”

Tony grinned, handing some of the scraps to his friend, who returned the gesture. “Don’t worry,” Rhodey insisted. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”


	6. Little Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! welcome back to pyra!
> 
> sorry to keep everybody waiting, but this chapter is special to me. if you've read the tags, then you know what's (or who's) coming. if not, get ready for a little surprise!
> 
> the only other thing i wanted to say is that this chapter was originally written when i was struggling with something pretty personal, so it has the potential to be interpreted rather darkly. i rewrote it a couple of weeks ago, because it just didn't feel right to subject this guy to what i was going through. but obviously if you read it a different way, you can probably guess where i was coming from. 
> 
> i just wanted to put this disclaimer at the beginning in case it makes anyone uncomfortable, but like i said, it has since been reworked and the only warning that i really think is necessary is the character's struggle with anxiety, and i will tag this chapter and the fic accordingly.
> 
> sorry to make these notes so long, but here we go! enjoy chapter 6!

There was good news, and there was bad news. The good news was the repairs the Mark III needed wouldn’t take nearly as long as the actual composition of the suit. The bad news—it would still take much longer than Tony would have liked. He looked around, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and saw Rhodey staring intently at the mangled suit on the work table. Tony watched as Rhodey fiddled with the wires, put old pieces into place, and made progress, little by little. Rhodey didn’t have some of the abilities that Tony did, but he was just as intelligent, if not more so. He could study for something for just long enough, and before anyone knew it, he’d figured it out completely. 

Tony turned back to the task at hand—the suit needed to be fixed   _ fast _ . With Steve on Olympus, and Rhodey here, there was no one to protect Steve up on the mountain. And if Rhodey stayed away from the rest of the Olympians for much longer, there was sure to be some sort of punishment waiting for him when he returned. Tony bounced his knee anxiously as he worked, his fingers making quick work of the wiring in the left leg while Rhodey worked on the right. Tony felt Rhodey’s eyes on him as he reassembled the suit, and after a little while, he huffed in annoyance and pushed away from the table in front of him. “What?” Tony demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Quit looking at me like you’re trying to figure me out.”

“I don’t need to figure you out, Tones,” Rhodey corrected him, and he wasn’t able to keep the irritation out of his voice completely. “I know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Tony sat still across from, his arms still crossed, and his expression slipped into a scowl. “Yeah?” he challenged his friend. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Rhodey sighed, and he put down the wiring he had been working on. “Tony, stop. You’re rushing through this because you’re worried about what could happen if you don’t—about what could happen to  _ Steve  _ if you don’t.”

“I’m not even thinking about him,” Tony lied, with little conviction. He didn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth either. He met his friend’s gaze, but he didn’t give. Instead, he attempted to move the conversation away from Steve. “I’m worried about you, too, Rhodes,” Tony sighed, just short of exasperation. “He’s not the only one that’s at risk.”

“I know that,” Rhodey began, and Tony knew him well enough to know that he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “But you are more at risk than anyone here. There’s no reason to worry about us;  _ we  _ are the ones worrying about  _ you _ . Besides, this suit needs to be better than perfect this time, and it’s not going to get that way while you can’t think straight.”

Tony huffed, and Rhodey chuckled at his resemblance to a toddler—petulant, now that he’d been caught in his half-truth. “I’m not  _ distracted _ . I’m  _ fine _ ,” but he said nothing else. His glances around the room, his inability to sit still—these things told a different story.

Rhodey turned back to the suit in front of him, and once Tony was satisfied that Rhodey had stopped talking about Steve, he picked his work back up as well. The silence hung over them, and for once it was uncomfortable, each of them fiddling with their respective parts of the suit. 

Rhodey didn’t look up from what he was doing when he spoke, but he refused to shy away from the subject the way that he knew Tony wanted him to. “You don’t need to worry about Steve. I mean, really, his strength is making friends, and he’s already doing that on Olympus.”

“Who?” Tony asked, and he didn’t look up either. “Not Fury.”

Rhodey threw his arms up in exasperation. “No, not Fury!” He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance, and Rhodey watched Tony carefully as he spoke. “Tony, he’s got some sense of  _ self-preservation _ . He’s not that thick-headed.”

“Obviously not,” Tony said, still fiddling with the suit in front of him. His voice dripped with sarcasm, but he avoided meeting the other god’s gaze. “He came here.”

If Rhodey were a better man, he would have talked to Tony in a low voice, telling him that he was being unreasonable in a calm, comforting way. Maybe on a different day, he would have. But in the bottom of Pyra, as the rest of the world slept around them, Rhodey stood abruptly, putting his hands on the work table in front of him and demanding Tony’s attention. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re looking at this whole thing anyway you can to keep yourself from looking at it the way that it  _ actually _ is.”

Tony finally looked up at Rhodey, but his stubbornness wouldn’t let him yield. His face was stone, showing no emotion other than the exhaustion that the day’s events had left on him. “And what way is it,  _ actually _ ?” he ground out, refusing to be wrong. But he knew that he was losing this argument, and his skin burned with barely-concealed anger.

“You’re worried, and I get that. I swear, Tony. I get that,” Rhodey allowed, knowing that Tony was dangerously close to withdrawing from the conversation completely. “I’m not telling you not to worry—I can’t keep you from doing that. But I’m saying that you don’t  _ need to _ . Steve is a likable guy; people want to help him. He’s fine for now. And me—how long have I been taking care of myself? And taking care of you? Even if you don’t think that he can handle this,  _ I can _ . I’m just trying to ease your mind a little bit here; can’t you just let me do that?” 

Tony’s face softened a tiny bit, and even though it was only a little change, Rhodey caught it. “You’re right. I know you are. I just—I don’t know. When people take my side, or when I take their side—terrible things happen. I’m just preparing for the worst to happen.”

“And when the worst happens,  _ we’ll be ready _ ,” Rhodey insisted, sitting back down and picking up where he left off on the armor. 

Tony followed his lead, picking at the scratched, red aluminum in front of him. They worked relentlessly, despite the fatigue creeping through their bodies, slowing them down little by little. The only thing keeping both of them awake was their friendly banter—their conversation had gone from heavy to light-hearted in no time at all.

After a while, Tony grew quiet again, and Rhodey would have been worried, but he knew Tony well enough to know that he wasn’t withdrawing just yet. He was deciding how to phrase whatever he was about to ask—he was treading carefully. Over what, Rhodey wasn’t sure, but he focused on the suit, where he’d moved to the right arm. He gave Tony the time that he needed to gather his thoughts; he knew that he would speak when he was ready. 

Tony shifted nervously in his seat. “Who’s looking out for Steve on Olympus?” he asked, his voice quiet, but not hesitant. He trusted that Rhodey knew how he was feeling, and Rhodey  _ did _ . He glanced up at Tonly only briefly before answering his question. 

“Natasha’s got a soft spot for him, I think,” Rhodey replied, his tone casual, and Tony was grateful for that. “She and Thor introduced themselves at his party.” Rhodey paused for a second, weighing his words carefully. “That’s who we were talking to when you were attacked.”

Tony’s body relaxed as he listened; he knew Natasha and Thor both very briefly before he’d been exiled, but it was what he’d heard about them through the city that comforted him. Natasha was a protector; that was just who  she was. Anyone who could not protect themselves, she was there to help. Tony knew Thor’s history, too—his brother had enraged Fury, and the god had been thrown to the Underworld. Not far off from Tony’s own situation, he thought, laughing bitterly to himself. Natasha and Thor—they would do right by Steve.

“Thor and Natasha were trying to keep Steve’s voice down; he was literally six feet from Fury talking about a coup, and then we heard the thunder,” Rhodey’s voice was light at first, but at the mention of the attack, his words caught for the briefest of moments. “Honestly, I thought I was going to turn around and he would be aiming at us. But he had his back to everyone… and I should have known. That it was you he was after.” 

Rhodey watched Tony carefully, and Tony looked everywhere except for at his friend. He felt  _ so guilty _ for being the one to cause that worry. “I’m sorry,” he said, solemnly, and he really was. He’d grown use to Fury bannishing him, attacking him, targeting  _ him _ , but he would never get used to what that did to  his friend. 

“You should never have left the volcano,” Rhodey started, “but I really can’t blame you. I would have done the same thing.” He reached across the table, nudging Tony playfully. “You had Steve pretty worried, though.

Tony’s head snapped up, and his eyes were narrowed with doubt. “What are you talking about?” he asked. This was exactly the kind of thing that Rhodey would poke fun at. 

“I’m serious,” he replied, putting his hands up in surrender, and a short chuckle slipped past his lips. “The only reason he’s not down here with me is because of how it would look, leaving so soon after he’d come back from Pyra.”

Tony felt the heat creep up the back of his neck, and he hoped that it wasn’t obvious, but Rhodey knew him. He picked at the armor on the work table again. They’d made more progress on the suit than he thought. Having finished reconstructing the bottom half, Tony had moved to the head of the table to pick up where he’d left off on the helmet. They worked quietly for a short time, but Tony couldn’t help the warm feeling that was growing steadily in his chest.

Rhodey was still working, too, but he laughed at Tony’s silence. The uncharacteristic timidness that had crossed his face was endearing, and Rhodey couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. “You should have seen him—ready to fight Fury right then and there.”

“Why did he attack?” Tony asked, switching the subject away from Steve and back to Fury’s violence. “What made him shoot at me?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rhodey shrugged again. “It was Steve’s welcoming party, and it had been going all day. You know—the cup that never runs dry. He was drunk. He just  _ saw _ you, and he lashed out.” His voice hardened again, remembering the scene: Fury, standing with his arm raised to strike again, surrounded by minor gods cheering him on. No wonder Steve had reacted that way; it took everything in him not to help Steve charge their supposed leader right then and there. His restraint was only what it had been thanks to the centuries he’d spent getting used to Fury’s brutal mood swings.

Tony heaved an exhausted sigh, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hands up behind his head. “Fury is...—he’s something else.”

“He could have  _ killed  _ you,” Rhodey glared at him, exasperated. 

“No, he couldn’t have. Immortal.”

“I can’t stand you.”

They went back to work, and Tony was grateful that  the conversation moved back in the direction of familiar banter. He picked up the pace, anxious to have the suit repaired. Now he knew the kind of trouble Steve was likely to get himself into on Olympus, and he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to be  _ ready _ . Rhodey followed Tony’s lead, working just as hard as he was. The only thing Tony had that Rhodey didn’t was his telepathic connection to the technology, but he was able to keep up just fine despite it. 

Finally, Rhodey had finished the reconstruction of the arms just as Tony was pounding the craters out of the helmet. “It should be ready,” Tony breathed, but his hands shook as he lifted the iron mask away from the rest of the armor. He moved  it to the opposite of the table the stood, arms spread wide in the center of the workshop. “Give me some space,” he said, and Rhodey rose from his seat on workbench, crossing the cavern and standing as close to the wall as he could.

Tony shut his eyes in concentration, reaching across the room with his mind, beckoning the suit to him—and the suit came. He breathed a sigh of relief, one side of his mouth pulling up in a small smile as the metal flew to his body, wrapping around him with ease. Rhodey watched in awe as the armor encased Tony, humming to life once everything had settled perfectly in place. The only thing that was missing was the helmet, and Rhodey began to reach for it but Tony stopped him.

“Don’t need it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving the volcano.”

Rhodey angled his head to one side in confusion, “How the hell are you going to fly that thing?”

“I’ll take it slow, dear,” Tony grinned. “Slow and steady. This isn’t the first time.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, but he stayed to the outskirts of the workshop, doing his best to stay out of the way. Tony straightened his arms at his sides, and it would have looked ridiculous save for the fact that it  _ worked _ . He was only a couple of inches off of the ground, but he was flying. Rhodey knew what Tony was capable of—he had designed Rhodey’s winged sandals after all—but Tony’s power never ceased to amaze him. 

“Slowly,” Tony whispered to himself, focusing on keeping his speed down. He knew that he would get carried away like before if he wasn’t careful. Slowly, the suit was taking him higher and higher, and this was good, he thought. This was practicing control—control that he’d never needed before.

He was moving slowly toward the opening at the top of the volcano. Without the helmet on, he was able to look  around the inside of his home from a new perspective—the lava rolling behind the stone walls, the rock tinted red with the heat, the thick haze that was ever present but never overwhelming. It was as if he was seeing it for the first time, and he reached out to run his metal-clad fingers along the walls as he kept going up. 

Tony thought he heard Rhodey from below, and he looked down towards the workshop, where Rhodey was looking up at him. But Rhodey wasn’t looking up at him. Rhodey was looking  _ past  _ him, eyes wide in horror at whatever it was that was happening behind him.

“What, Rhodes?” Tony shouted down to the bottom of the volcano, panic seeping into his voice. “What’s  _ happening _ , Rhodey?” 

Tony turned in the suit, flying towards the opening in the volcano, trying to see what Rhodey could, but the ash was too thick up here. He realized too late that he should have put on the helmet.  _ Faster _ , he told the armour, and it obeyed. It launched him faster toward the top.

As he gained speed, he heard the same voice from earlier, and he realized it wasn’t Rhodey that he’d heard. There was someone else in Pyra. 

“Come on, please.  _ Please _ ,” the voice begged, ragged with tears and exhaustion, and it couldn’t have belonged to a boy more than sixteen. “Let me up! I miss my mom, I miss my mom, I miss my mom!” the boy murmured, and Tony pushed forward even further.  _ No no no no,  _ his mind moved faster than his body could, and he heard one last sentence before the unimaginable happened. “I’m coming, Mom.  I’ll see you soon, okay? I’m on my way.”

Before Tony could react, the boy came into view just as he stepped above the opening at the top—not stepping into the volcano. He looked like he was trying to climb  _ up  _ it, except the boy had already reached the top. There was nothing left for him to climb, and instead, he fell faster than Tony could have predicted. His body plummeted to the ground, and Tony had never changed direction so fast in his life.  _ No,  _ he pleaded, and even though he wasn’t speaking to the suit directly, it listened. He was flying towards the workshop at the bottom at a dangerously high speed, but he couldn’t think about that. All that mattered was keeping that boy from hitting the ground. He reached out in front of him, and he grabbed the boy with such force he hoped that it wouldn’t bruise, but that didn’t matter right now. Tony pulled the kid in, catching only a glimpse of the panic in his eyes before he tucked him into his chest, cradling his head with both hands, doing everything he could to protect the boy from the inevitable impact.  _ Please, let him be okay. Let him be okay,  _ was the only thing running through his mind, and they both fell to the ground at a speed that couldn’t have been humanly possible. 

The suit hit the ground with a crunch, and Tony’s head fell back with a sickening crack. It was better him than the kid, and he’d done it. He’d kept him from an even worse impact. His arms fell to each side of his body, and the boy rolled away from him, chest heaving and eyes wide with panic. He managed to pull himself to his feet, his legs shaking, and his face was ashen, despite the dirt covering his tear-stained cheeks. “Who are you?”

Tony struggled to lift his head long enough to look at the boy, “Call me Tony,” he said casually, but he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him.  _ Fuck,  _ that hurt.  He let his head fall back again, careful of knot that he was sure had begun to form. But it didn’t matter to Tony—the injuries would have been far worse for a mortal, and he was grateful that he’d caught up to the kid in time to lessen the impact. 

Rhodey came from where he’d been pressed into the wall, doing his best to stay out of the way. He approached the center of the workshop with caution, his hands raised in a sort of surrender, but the boy didn’t back away. He was terrified, no doubt, but he anchored his feet where he was standing. Every one of his nerve endings was alive with apprehension, and it showed—but the kid refused to move.

“Who are  _ you _ ?” Rhodey asked, inching closer. He stopped in his tracks as the boy stood up straight, almost as if he had succeeded in willing away his anxieties. Rhodey straightened to meet the boy’s gaze, lowering his hands to his sides in an effort to appear more composed than he felt. 

But no mortal should have made it this far into Pyra, and as Rhodey glanced to Tony, still sprawled out on the floor, he knew the look on his face. He was thinking the same thing. Who  _ was  _ this kid? 

“My name is Peter,” the boy explained, and a slight tremor rattled his words as more tears threatened to spill. Peter brought a hand to his face, scrubbing angrily at his eyes. “What is this place?” he asked, choosing to ignore the wary looks that the two men were giving him. 

“You’re in the bottom of a volcano, kid,” Tony answered him, wincing as he sat up, his legs bent and his arms resting on his knees. 

Peter stared at him incredulously. “Yeah, no shit,” he muttered, still confused, but his frustration seeped into his words. “I meant  _ why _ .”

“You can only climb so high kid,” Rhodey said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Peter glanced at him, but he immediately withdrew at the god’s words.

Peter brought his arms around his waist, doing his best to hold himself together, but no matter how tight his grip, he was falling apart. The tears came again, faster this time, and he choked on his words as he tried to explain. “I was climbing the—the volcano? I thought it was a mountain. I—I wasn’t trying to fall. I was trying to  _ climb.  _ I have to—I have to get to Elysium.” The boy struggled to form a coherent sentence, and a strangled sob interrupted his words. His shoulders shook as he cried, and he dug his fingers into his side, trying desperately to regain some of the control that he’d had moments before.

Tony took a deep breath in through his nose, the scene before him almost to much to bear. If he was trying to get to Elysium, then he was trying to find someone who had died—probably leaving him alone in Athens. There was no way Peter could be more than sixteen, yet Tony couldn’t blame him for any of what he was feeling. He’d been there before; he’d allowed the loneliness gnawing at his insides to swallow him up, and he would have given anything to take that pain away—even trying to climb a mountain to get to a place that no mortal had ever gone before. He didn’t know Peter yet, but looking at the kid now, he would give anything to take that pain away from him _.  _ He was just a boy, after all, and from the looks of it, he was alone in the world. “Come on, kid,” Tony sighed, standing with difficulty. “Come on, you’re here, okay. It doesn’t really matter what brought you here, does it? You’re here, and you’re alive,” he said, and the intensity in his voice surprised even him.

Peter released the death grip on his sides, coughing helplessly as he wiped his cheeks again. Tony walked slowly toward him, the metal of the suit creaking with each step he took. Peter shut his eyes tight, trying to steady himself, but he shrunk away from the god involuntarily as he got closer; and Tony stopped, waiting for Peter to be okay with his approach. The boy’s cheeks were splotchy from the tears, and seeing that was enough for Tony’s insides to shatter a little more. He didn’t know Peter, and he couldn’t begin to guess at what kind of loss had caused him to try to climb to Elysium, but he would do whatever he could to help. 

Rhodey watched the exchange with concern, for both Tony and the kid. He knew that logically, no human should be able to make it through Pyra’s charms. They extended to the top of the volcano to prevent humans from getting inside, but they hadn’t kept Peter out. As he studied the scene in front of him, Rhodey knew that the question shouldn’t be asked now, but it would be asked. Eventually. He stepped forward, again, and Tony and Peter both turned to look at him as he did. 

“I’m Rhodey, Messenger of the Gods of Olympus. And he’s the god of forge, fire, and everything scary,” Rhodey said lightly, nodding to the metal-clad man. 

Peter’s eyes lit up with recognition and he gasped audibly, glancing back and forth between the two gods. “Oh you’re….—You’re Olympians. You’re  _ those  _ Olympians,” he breathed, and as he spoke, light began to flood the workshop from the top. The sun had started to rise amidst the chaos, and Tony felt the heaviness in his chest ease ever so slightly as the atmosphere changed. He allowed himself a small smile at the wonder in the kid’s tone. It was the first time he’d spoken without a tremble in his voice, he realized, and he couldn’t hold back the relieved chuckle that escaped him.

 

“Yeah, kid, I guess we are  _ those _ Olympians,” Tony replied, and instead of trying to approach Peter again, he began to disassemble the suit manually where he stood. He needed to begin repairs again. “I think...—Well, I mean—only if you want. You’re with us, now.”


	7. Broken Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! it's been a long semester, but we're back! i've got time today babies let's have some greek mythology. 
> 
> just a recap: peter is here now, in the bottom of pyra. not sure if it's mentioned explicitly, but he was trying to get to elysium to find his mom after her death. so he climbed, until he couldn't climb anymore, and then he was falling. but tony was there.
> 
> this chapter was another one that was special to me, but i know you guys are anxious to have steve back in pyra, and i am too. hang in there, it's coming sooner than you think. i love you guys 3000.

Despite all the work that Tony and Rhodey had put into the suit, there were still repairs that needed to be done following their crash in the bottom of the workshop. Rhodey had gone back to Olympus shortly after sunrise, leaving Tony and Peter alone in the bottom of the volcano. He’d offered to stay, but Tony had pulled him off to the side, out of the newcomer’s earshot, and insisted that he returned to the other Olympians.

“I told you I would help you with this, Tones. Let me help,” he’d argued, but Tony shook his head, vehemently.

“Go,” he’d told him, his tone a rushed whisper. “Get back to the Mountain, and see what’s going on up there. I can get this working again, and I need to talk to the kid. He’s got nowhere to go, Rhodey. He’s staying here.”

Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Tony. “He shouldn’t even be able to get _in_ here,” Rhodey had countered, but the argument ended there, and he flew back to Olympus. His absence was felt, but Tony’s focus remained on the boy that sat to his right. Not even 3 hours ago, Peter had fallen into Pyra while he was searching for his mother, and Tony had caught him. They’d only narrowly escaped a deadly impact at the bottom of the volcano, but Peter had lived. Tony knew that saving the boy’s life was not for nothing; he’d do everything in his power to make sure that Peter could find a new home in Pyra—and eventually on Olympus, if the stirring rebellion that Rhodey spoke of was true.

 

* * *

 

The suit was laid out on the worktable in the center of the room, and Tony sat at the head of the table, frayed wires and scratched metal surrounding him. Peter sat to his right side, his head lowered, and an apologetic look contorted his features. Tony had noticed the gradual decrease in Peter’s mood, but he hadn’t said anything. There were too many questions he wanted to ask, but it was so easy for Tony to say the wrong thing—that was something he didn’t want to risk with Peter. The kid sat, watching Tony work at first, his leg bouncing under the table and his fingers drumming his thigh in a nervous habit. After a while, he slumped in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed. He breathed in heavily, trying his best to keep calm. “Mr…,” he began, trailing off—Peter wasn’t quite sure how to address the god.

“Just call me Tony,” he said, and Peter let out a breath.

“Tony,” he tried again, his voice still hesitant. “Look, I’m sorry. For everything earlier. I didn’t know what this place was. Well—” he stuttered. “I’ve heard stories about the god in exile. But I didn’t know—I didn’t realize this was where you lived.”

Tony shifted in his seat, leaning away from the suit, and folding his hands in his lap. He was uncomfortable, too—unsure of the way he should talk to the boy in front of him. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, finally. There wasn’t—not really. He had fallen in, and Tony had caught him. He wouldn’t have let any harm come to the kid, anyway; that wasn’t the kind of god Tony was.

“There is, though!” Peter cut him off, and the burst of confidence propelled him further. “I _fell_ in here, into your home, and you destroyed your—this thing—saving me,” he gestured helplessly at the armor in front of them.

Tony weighed his next words carefully. He knew that nothing that he could say would alleviate the anxiety Peter was feeling right now, but he wanted to ease his mind a little bit. “This—” he began, leaning forward and running his hand over the suit, “is the Mark III. It’s a work in progress again, but I had it up and running yesterday. It’s a weapon. When it needs to be.”

Peter looked from the armor to Tony and back to the armor again, and the god gave him a nod of encouragement as he reached out to touch it. He ran his hands over the flawed metal surface carefully, hardly believing what he was looking at. Tony watched him closely, his head cocked to one side as he did, studying the way that Peter reacted to the new technology. Not only should mortals be unable to make it to the _inside_ of his volcanic workshop, but no human would be able to wield the weapon of a god—and Mark III was perhaps the deadliest of them. But Peter ran his hands almost lovingly over the chipped red paint, and his eyes glazed over in wonder.

“What _is_ this?” he mused  aloud, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with awe. Tony pretended not to hear him and he schooled his face into a neutral expression. He was proud of his suit; it was his best yet. To have someone recognize the magnitude of his work gave made him a sense of fulfillment that he never knew he needed.

Peter shifted closer to the work table, using both hands to pull up the metal arm, looking at it closely and tugging at a couple of  loose wires. Tony reached out involuntarily to stop him, still wary of any harm that the suit may cause the kid. But Peter looked at him, his face showing nothing but innocence and confusion, and Tony sat back, raising his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, kid. Instinct. This thing is dangerous to mortals,” he explained, but the thought jarred him. It _should_ be dangerous to Peter, too.

Peter nodded once, but he turned back to the robotic arm without thinking twice. He was enthralled with it—it was like nothing he’d ever seen before, and he wanted to take it apart and _understand_ it. He put the mechanical appendage back down, opting instead to move to the head of the armor. Peter took the mask in his hands carefully, and its eyes lit up as he did, coming to life with a whirring sound. He jumped back, almost dropping the helmet in the process, but he regained his composure, laughing  nervously. His cheeks burned an embarrassing shade of pink as Tony watched him, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Why do you need this?” Peter asked, rolling the helmet in his hands just to keep them moving as he spoke.

Tony looked away from him, the laughter disappearing from his eyes. “Preparations,” he said, his voice tight with apprehension. “Something big is coming. But that’s a story for another day.”

Peter wanted desperately to know what he was referring to, but Tony spoke with such finality. He knew that he wouldn’t get any answers out of him even if he did ask. The boy set the faceplate down gingerly, returning to his seat, but he shifted on the workbench, tucking his tunic under his legs—anything to keep himself from sitting perfectly still.

Tony went back to work, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye; he wouldn’t stop worrying about the kid any time soon. His mind was reeling at a pace that he couldn’t keep up with. How did Peter get into Pyra? Why could Peter touch the suit? Why didn’t it seem to hurt him? Mortals couldn’t touch anything constructed by a god, much less the Mark III. The results were deadly—skin burning bright red, flesh melting off of bones. He’d seen it happen before, but Peter hadn’t so much as flinched when he’d brushed his hands over the armor.

“Tell me about yourself, kid,” Tony spoke abruptly, not looking up from the suit. “I like to talk while I work. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to that’s not the fucking walls.”

Peter glanced at him, bewildered. “Um. What about me? What do you want to know?”

“Just talk,” Tony said, and he hated the command he heard in his voice. He hadn’t meant to sound so curt. “I just mean, tell me anything you want. How old are you? What do you like? That kind of thing. You don’t have to tell me everything. Just fill the silence—I’d bet you’re good at that.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at that; he couldn’t tell if the god was trying to insult him, but he spoke anyway. He was proud of the way his voice sounded—unwavering. “I’ll be seventeen soon,” he began, propping an elbow up on the worktable and resting his head in his hand. “My mom started planning a party a couple of months ago. She wanted to make it a big deal. She always wanted everything to big a deal for me. I think she felt bad that it was just me and her.”

“No dad?” Tony asked, nonchalantly, but the gears in his brain were turning quickly, clicking all of the information into place.

“No dad,” Peter confirmed, and his tone turned sad, but it wasn’t for his dad that he mourned. It was for his mother. “Mom said he left before I was born. The only thing I know about him came from her stories.”

Tony sat patiently, tinkering with the suit in front of him, waiting for the boy to continue at his own pace. But everything about Peter was slowly starting to make sense. Able to get into Pyra, able to touch the suit. Never had a father. Peter wasn’t a mortal who happened to be an exception to the rule. He wasn’t even a _mortal_. If he had a godly father, it would make sense that he’d never met him. Fury strictly forbade interaction between godly parents and their demigod children.

Peter sat in silence for a moment longer before taking in a shaky breath, doing his best to keep himself together. Whatever composure he’d managed earlier was fading fast. He shut his eyes, pressing the palms of his hands against them, not wanting to cry—and if he did cry, not wanting Tony to see him do it. Tony kept his eyes on his work. The loneliness that had pushed Peter to dangerous heights, unsure of what exactly he was searching for—that was something the fire god was all too familiar with. Seeing the kid struggle with it held a deathly grip on his heart. A grip that wouldn’t let up.

“Tell me about you mom, Peter,” Tony said, and he could hear a tenderness in his words that was uncharacteristic of him.

Peter shifted his weight, moving one hand to rub his chest, and Tony couldn’t tell if the kid even knew he was doing it. His red eyes focused on the wall ahead of him, and the resolve to stay calm was apparent on his face, though Tony was familiar with that as well. It’s so much easier said than done.

“My mom was my best friend,” Peter began, and his lower lip trembled as he spoke. He shook his head once, sharply, cursing himself for the emotions that were slowly overwhelming him. “She really was. My closest friend. She was all I had, and she always knew exactly what to say. Especially when—well, when I would get like this.” His shoulders sagged, as if he was trying to make himself smaller—to take up as little space as possible.

He steadied his breathing once more, and for the first time, Tony noticed the leather cord around his neck. Peter reached up and played with the necklace at his collarbone, unconsciously. He pulled at it, and the charm that had been hidden moments before fell out of the collar of his tunic. The stone glinted a vicious red in the dim light of the workshop as Peter turned it between his fingers, still staring at the wall ahead of him. Tony watched the reflection of light dance across the wall and he knew at once what it was. It was something that had come from an Olympian—a necklace charmed to always reflect light, even in the darkest of the places. It shone unnaturally in the depths of Pyra, and Tony knew without question. Peter was a demigod.

The boy looked at Tony, and looked away just as quickly. “Sorry,” he muttered, still gripping the necklace in his hand. “Sorry. I just—I don’t have her anymore. I don’t have anyone.”

“You’ve got me now, kid,” Tony said, but he kept his gaze focused on the suit in front of him. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy, the words were a fiery determination. He meant them with every fiber in his godly being.

Peter tore his gaze from the wall and watched Tony work, his face lighting up ever so slightly for the first time since they’d crash landed at the bottom. “Thank you,” he told him, and Peter sat comfortably again, his fingers no longer searching anxiously for something to do, and his necklace fell back into place on his chest.

Tony, finished with the legs of the suit that he had been working on, stood and moved to the other side of the worktable to put the armor’s torso back together.

“Talk, Pete,” he said, adamantly. “Just keep talking to me.” Of course it was nice to have another voice in the volcano, but Tony’s concern was for Peter, not for himself. If he could keep him talking, it would give him something to focus on other than the emotions that were warring within him, dangerously close to spilling over.  

“She died when the Spartans attacked.” Peter sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands. Tony tensed—Peter had only just barely subdued a panic attack, and talking about his mother’s death couldn’t be easy for him. Still, he was visibly much calmer. The anxiety no longer wracked his body, and he took slow, even breaths as he spoke, so Tony didn’t protest. “We were trying to get back home, but they were riding through the city, swinging blades on all sides. We were almost home, but there were people running in every direction, and the streets were crowded. She had me on the opposite side of her, closest to the buildings. She was trying to protect me, and I heard the horse coming before I knew what was happening. I mean I knew...—I had to know what was happening. I knew, but I couldn’t stop it. She pushed me into amwall, out of the way, and I was tripping trying to keep up with her. God, she was so scared, and I remember all I wanted was to be home.”

Tony watched Peter carefully as he spoke, listening closely for any sign of shallow breathing or panicked words. He hadn’t meant for Peter to talk about this—to remember this—but sometimes it did help, and if he needed him to, Tony would listen.

Peter took closed his eyes tightly, and when he spoke again, there was no trace of the tremor it had held moments before. Instead, he spoke with a ferocity that Tony didn’t think him capable of. “My mom was killed in the streets, right in front of me. They didn’t even do it on purpose—I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. The Spartans were riding through the city, slinging swords, and one of them caught her across the chest on accident. And he _laughed_ about it. He kept riding. She crumpled right in front of me, and I was able to pull her into an alley. But I...—I couldn’t get her home, and she died in the street. Like an animal—my mom. She left me alone.”

Tony looked up from where he was bent over, working on the armor. Peter’s face was red and aggravated from the tears earlier; his eyes were full of sadness that a kid his age should never know, but the boy had decided he was done crying. Despite his resolve, there was a softness to his face—a trait that Tony suspected would never leave Peter. The boy took another steadying breath, running his hand through his hair as he did, and Tony kept at his work.

“Come here, kid,” he told him, and Peter glanced up from where he sat on the workbench. Tony waved him closer to the armor, and Peter obeyed, standing so that he could see what the god was fiddling with in the chest piece. Tony had taken the metal off, and he raised the wiring that was in his hands, motioning for Peter to grab them. He hand been tinkering carelessly while he was listening to the boy’s story, more focused on Peter’s words, and the multicolored wires suffered greatly because of it. Peter took the tangled mess of wires from Tony, and he tugged at them without thinking.

“I’ve got to keep working, but you untangle those.” Peter nodded once, and opted to stay where he was, rather than going back to sit down at the workbench. Tony continued to watch his work, his brow furrowed intently, but he knew that Peter was there. And Peter knew, somehow, that he was still listening.

He went to work with the wires, untangling the blue ones from the yellow ones, words bouncing around in his head as he did. “My mom used to tell me about my dad,” he began. “I–I mean did _have_ a father. Never knew him though.” Tony glanced up at him, his eyebrow raised both in concentration and in affirmation that he was paying attention.

“She used to tell me stories to calm me down,” Peter began. He pulled his necklace out from the collar of his tunic once more, holding it where Tony could see it. “I’ve had this since I was old enough to walk; she said it was a gift from my dad. Not...—Not for me. For my mom. She said it was his promise that he would come back, but...–”

“But he never did,” Tony finished the sentence for him.

“No, he never did.” Peter let the necklace hang, the charm glinting in the dim light of Pyra once more. “But my mom never spoke a bad word against him. She always said that he was a good man. I started to, once…—to ask her why she still loved him. You know, even after he left us.” The boy went back to work on the wires, slowly unraveling them without really realizing what he was doing. “I remember she got really quiet. All she said was that he wouldn’t have left without a good reason.”

“Having a son should be reason enough to stay,” Tony said, still digging around in the chest piece of the armor.

Peter hummed in agreement, his fingers still pulling at the tangled mess mindlessly. “I didn’t believe her at first—that he loved us, I mean. But something about my mom,” he mused. “I—I don’t know… She never doubted him. I think that takes strength—to never give up on someone like that. Even after they’re gone.”

“It does, kid,” Tony agreed, finally sitting back from the chest piece. He wiped his hands on his tunic, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m sure your mom was right—that your dad was a good man.”

Peter shrugged, finally done unravelling the mess of wires in front of him. He set them on the table, making his way back to where he had been sitting before. “Sure, maybe he was,” he began, his sad eyes watching Tony as he spoke. “But where is he now?”

Tony sighed, leaning forward to meet Peter’s gaze. “Hey, Pete.” He reached out and knocked the boy’s knee playfully. “Doesn’t matter where he is now. Or maybe it does, who knows? But for _now_ , you’re here. You’re safe here. I’ve got you, buddy.”

A small smile graced Peter’s lips and he kicked at Tony’s hand with his sandaled feet. He reached up to tuck the small pendant at his neck back into the linen of his tunic. “Thank you. Really. I mean, _really_ , thank you. You saved my life.”

Tony chuckled, turning once more to the Mark III in front of him. “No, Pete. Thank you.”

 


End file.
